


waging war (and take a stand)

by socionatural



Series: advienne que pourra (come what may) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avenger Harry Potter, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, I'm Sorry, Immortality, Infinity Stones, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Master of Death Harry Potter, SHIELD, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, very irregular updates because i am perpetually out of spoons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socionatural/pseuds/socionatural
Summary: Harry hasn’t interfered in mortal matters since several millennia ago. But when Fury approaches him and tells him that a Norse god is roaming free on Earth with a scepter capable of mind control, he can’t refuse. At least, not when he realises that the Norse god in question is Loki, his old student.Add in the fact that Fury intends to rope in Tony Stark—his best friend—and Harry really doesn’t have any choice in the matter, does he?





	1. prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He walks this new earth for millennia, a silent sentinel among the dust and ruins of entire civilizations that have risen and fallen with the tides of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so this isn’t very ragnarok-compliant. i changed a lot of things about hela’s backstory and what her prison is like (actually, there wasn’t much detail about that, so)
> 
> anyway, welcome! updates are incredibly sporadic, my apologies. my health is pretty shitty and exam stress is the same thing as school stress, most of the time. it’s not fun.
> 
> titles for most of this series is taken from _advienne que pourra_ by fabien incardona from the musical _la légende du roi arthur_. if you're a loki fan, check out [this edit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kuqrOGPlBA).

**0 0**

**p r o l o g u e**

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.” — Mark Twain

 

Harry doesn’t think he can die. Everything he’s done so far has proven that.

He stared Death in the face as an infant and survived unscathed but for an insignificant scar. He spent his entire childhood with people who abused and neglected him. He confronted a troll within the first two months of studying in Hogwarts. And in the years that followed, he only continued to evade Death, always staying one step ahead because of either luck or sacrifice.

So when he gives himself up for the final time in that solemn forest and Death offers him the choice to leave or stay, it’s hardly a surprise that he chooses to live.

Evading Death is all he’s ever known.

Of course, that isn’t his smartest decision. But when he remembers that time in a ghostly white King’s Cross Station with a long-dead headmaster, he can’t help but wonder why he took so long to decide.

Because the only thing he truly excels at is staying alive.

So when he outlives his children and his grandchildren and everyone after them, he simply reaches for another shot of firewhiskey and relishes the burn of it down his throat. When the muggles attack out of fear and prejudice, he shields the few wizards smart enough to come to him for help. And when he stands in the center of the universe and watches the world burn into ash on a wind that doesn’t blow anymore, he merely sighs.

Then he moves on.

He has to. That’s his curse, doomed to roam the world for eternity, forced to watch everyone he loves live and die within their lives while he carries them on to the afterlife. He’s a lone silhouette against the fading light as the world succumbs to the darkness he’s spent his entire life battling against, because nothing he does is ever enough.

And he wonders then, a little selfishly, if he will meet his end. He’s done more than what was required of him, saved the world so many times when no one asked him to. He’s walked among demons that wished the world dead and defeated them while everyone took his sacrifices for granted, endured the muggles deriding him for being the last of his kind even as he saved them all time and time again.

But Death has other plans in mind, and so Harry is spirited away to another dimension, one where Earth—they call it Midgard now—has just come into being and the Nine Realms are fighting for dominance.

He walks this new earth for millennia, a silent sentinel among the dust and ruins of entire civilizations that have risen and fallen with the tides of time. He doesn’t interfere anymore, not where he can help it.

He’s too tired of the war.

But the Æsir concern him, if nothing else but for the fact that they assume that their longevity and superiority grants them power over the Realms. So he attaches himself to them, makes himself out to be an advisor so he can keep an eye on them.

He is there when Bor Burison first assembles the Einherjar to steal the Aether away from the Svartálfar and when he eventually falls in battle. He stands by the dais when Odin Borson ascends to the throne after they mourn his father’s passing. He watches from the shadows as Hela Loptrsdottir is made his Executioner and together they assert their power over all the worlds.

Fenrir Loptrson howls in victory by his sister’s side, and their brother Jormungandr coils behind her, eyes gleaming in pride. Across the battlefield, Hela raises her head and meets Harry’s eyes. A sharp grin curls her lips, and Harry feels an answering smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

She always has been his favourite student.

When Midgard is invaded, Odin leads the Æsir to victory against the Jötnar, Hela at his side, as always, and claims the Casket of Ancient Winters as his prize. Somewhere along the way, Thor and Loki Odinsons are born, but Harry doesn’t pay much attention to that. He’s too busy trying to persuade Odin to give the Casket back.

“Take anything but that!” he shouts at Odin, temper running short. “That’s their source of power, they’ll die without it!”

“So?” Odin roars. “Know your place, Haraldr. You are but an advisor and I the king. I have the final say in things, and when I say the Nine Realms are better off without the Jötnar, they are!”

He leaves.

There’s nothing for him left on Asgard. Hela can handle being on her own for a while, and Fenrir and Jormungandr haven’t spoken to him since before the war with the Jötnar. He needs some time to clear his head.

There’s nothing but peace for a full century, but then Hela strikes out against Asgard.

He has completely rotten luck.

Harry holes himself up on a distant planet, too ashamed and grief-stricken to face his mistake.

He should have seen it coming.

He still takes note of every single war that happens, of course. It’s pretty much second nature by now: keep track of all the ways the world decides to screw itself over and try to fix it without revealing himself.

He saves countless empires that way.

But he fails even more.

The Valkyrior fall to Hela, their sworn sister, and he is powerless to help because he was too trusting, too naïve, and he didn’t think she would dare to attack those under his protection.

That’s a mistake Harry can’t afford to make again. Even after he finds out what happened to turn Hela against Odin, after he returns her brothers from their wrongful imprisonment, he still cannot forget how she slaughtered all her sworn sisters in her fury.

So he returns to life on Midgard, uprooting himself every decade or so because of his eternal youth. He keeps everyone at arm’s length, friendly but intensely private, so that when he has to pick up and move again, it’s with far less connections to sever.

There’s only so long he can remain somewhere as an immortal who doesn’t age as mortals do, and having to break his friendships every decade hurts.

Of course, he does make exceptions. He steps in a couple of times, saves a few people who have too much of their life’s work incomplete to die yet. But no one can convince him to return to Asgard. He can’t look at Odin without remembering the chains biting into Fenrir’s mouth, or the way Jormungandr’s scales were dulled and chipped when Harry had finally found him.

That changes when Tyr finds him standing in the Alfheim plains one day. “Haraldr!” he calls, and pulls a small boy forward. Tyr grins at Harry’s confusion. “I have found you a new student,” he says. “Prince Loki wanted to meet the famed seiðmaðr, and our queen has nothing more to teach him. You would not deny him this chance, hm?”

Harry shoots him a half-hearted glare. “I don’t take students anymore, Tyr,” he sighs, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “And I know what you’re doing.”

“Harry.” His eyes open at the sudden gravity in Tyr’s voice. “No one will teach him, not after the war. Please.”

A quick movement from Loki draws Harry’s attention, and he turns just fast enough to see him hide behind Tyr, hair falling forward to obscure his face. He tugs gently at Tyr’s hand and mumbles something too soft for Harry to catch. But Tyr doesn’t move, just watches Harry with an all-too-knowing gaze.

Damn it.

“All right,” Harry hears himself say. He rolls his eyes at Tyr’s sly grin and makes his way to Loki, kneeling before him. “Loki, right?” he asks, and is rewarded with a shy smile. “Can you show me what you have learned already?”

Clever eyes peek out from the fringe of black hair, then Loki raises a hand and summons a green flame.

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. It’s the exact colour of the _Avada_ _Kedavra_.

A warm hand squeezes his shoulder and he knows, without looking up, that Tyr has moved to stand behind him. Pulling together the shreds of his composure, Harry offers Loki a smile. “That’s a very good start,” he says with only a slight waver in his voice. “Come, I’ll show you what else you can do with that flame.”

Most of their time together is spent on Alfheim. Harry only returns to Asgard when Tyr can draw Odin away with council meetings, but he doesn’t stay long. It’s long enough to see the obvious difference in the way Asgard treats Thor and Loki, long enough to know that something’s not quite right in the way Odin talks to Loki sometimes.

But not long enough to teach Loki everything he knows. _Never_ long enough.

He’s learnt his lesson, and no one in this universe will ever hold the same power Hela does.

He tells himself that it’s for the good of the world, but Death forces him to admit that the loss of the Valkyrior still _hurts_.

“There is nothing wrong with having selfish reasons, Harry,” she says in the middle of a ravaged battlefield. Stepping over the broken bodies of the fallen soldiers, she continues, “Everyone is selfish. It just depends on whether that selfishness leads to responsibility or not.”

Harry resolves to never ask her for advice again when she stops before a general and steps on his face hard enough for bone to crunch.

He doesn’t account for how quickly the millennia pass. He’d always thought that being alone will just drag out the years, that the lack of attachments means being forced to endure centuries of torturous emptiness. But they flash past in the blink of an eye and somehow that makes everything worse. It hurts that he’s grown so used to the lack of company, that his magic sends echoes into the universe that are never answered.

No one told him immortality would be this lonely.

“It’s not fair,” he screams at Death once, sobs wracking his frame. She doesn’t answer, just watches him with a hint of hopelessness in that skeletal face.

It’s only made worse when he realizes that this world is almost exactly the same but with one major difference. It’s one that makes Harry want to get the hell away from Midgard and while his days away in some distant planet far, far away in the distant galaxies.

There are no wixen.

There’s no one he can identify with, no one he knows from before, and the future gets bleaker by the second when he remembers that he’ll probably live forever.

For Harry, this is only the beginning. But there will never be an ending.


	2. manipulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because that's what Tony is―a friend. Somehow he's snuck his way into Harry's life even when Harry tried his best to keep him out, kept coming around even after Harry rejected his job offer and showed him the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of this chapter was inspired by cywsaphyre's [finding home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/413495/chapters/686715) because it's great.
> 
> for those of you who are wondering: in the comics, midgard was originally known as aesheim. until odin's brother became corrupted and odin razed it to the ground in an attempt to free the nine realms from his brother's taint.

**0 1**

**m a n i p u l a t i o n**

“Manipulation, fueled with good intent, can be a blessing. But when used wickedly, it is the beginning of a magician’s karmic calamity.” — T.F. Hodge

 

Twenty-first century New York City is everything familiar yet new, and Harry relaxes for the first time in his new life. This is the era he associates with peace and stability, solely because back then, the war against Voldemort had finally been won, and Harry had just graduated and gotten a job.

So that’s what he does now. He studies and gets his degrees, goes out more often and frequents little-known cafes and diners around his apartment. He opens a garage, one that slowly builds up a reputation for being cheap yet reliable, and soon he has a steady stream of customers.

Car accidents are apparently all the rage here in New York. He’s not complaining.

A few years pass by like that, with Harry working in his shop or on his projects, and for once he doesn’t need to help save the world from anything. He lets down his guard, gets complacent, does things Moody would scream at him for.

Of course, that’s when he jinxes himself.

It’s seven years later when he sees it.

Harry’s just finished his morning run, and he’s rounding the corner to his apartment when he smells the acrid stench of something burning. It’s familiar enough that he’s looking around to find the source before he even realises what he’s doing.

He doesn’t have to look far.

There’s a woman on the phone standing right outside his apartment, her expression harried as she speaks. Two men in rolled-up sleeves are fiddling with the engine of an Audi R8, one of them cursing rather loudly. The woman seems to think so too, if her hissing at the man to shut up is any indication. 

Harry can’t help but raise his eyebrows. It’s seven in the morning and they’re already having problems with their car? How strange. But when he peers closer at them, the woman’s worry tugs at something in him. Hermione used to call it his saving-people thing, and he feels a sudden rush of fondness for the friend he hasn’t seen in millennia.

But whatever that thing is, it has him moving before he knows it.

He stops before them and clears his throat. All three of them glance up at him at the same time and he blinks owlishly, caught off-guard for a moment.

“Yes?” the one who hasn’t spoken yet says impatiently.

Harry shrugs and jams his hands in his pocket. “Sorry, couldn’t help but notice that you’ve got a slight problem here,” he says, and points back at his apartment, built above his garage. “I can help, if you want.” 

The man who’s been cursing this entire time perks up. But it’s not him who speaks. “How soon can you fix it?” the woman asks, her frown fading a little when she realizes that Harry can help.

He peers under the hood and sees the problem instantly. It’s a matter of elimination, really, because there are only a few things that can cause that stench. “The clutch needs replacing. Few hours, maybe.” He shoots them a sideways glance when the woman groans. “In a hurry?”

“A bit, yeah,” the last man sighs, and Harry notes with a detached sort of surprise that it’s Tony Stark. “I’ve got an important meeting in half an hour, and I really can’t afford to be late for that one.”

Harry scrutinizes him, then nods to himself. If Stark says he can’t afford to miss this meeting, then he probably really can’t. And he isn’t completely heartless. “Wait here,” he says, then walks back to his garage. The door slides up when he places a finger on the scanner, and he grabs a set of keys off a hook by the door and tosses them at Stark. He points at an Impala parked inside. “Return it in one piece after your meeting. Your car should be fixed by then.”

Stark gapes at him. “You’re lending me your car?” he stutters. “But we just met!”

Harry gives him a curious look. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “You’ll have to come back to get your car, yes? So just return mine when you do.”

He seems ready to say something else when the woman cuts in, giving him a scolding look that has him caving in an instant. “Thank you so much,” she says sincerely. “I’ll make sure your car is returned without a scratch.”

“All right,” Harry hums, and waves them off. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks!” Stark yells as he ducks into the car. “I’ll treat you to lunch or something. Show my appreciation and all that,” he adds, and the car pulls onto the road before Harry can make any kind of protest.

He sighs and trudges back into the garage. Hopefully fixing the Audi won’t take too long. He really wants to get some work done before Stark comes back. He has a feeling he won’t take no for an answer to his offer of lunch. 

* * *

There aren’t many customers in the morning, which leaves Harry with plenty of time to work on the few projects he keeps on the side. He’s so used to the process already, to the motor oil and the sweat dripping down his forehead as he works, that his mind starts to drift. 

He knows who Stark is, of course. He doesn’t live under a rock. News of Iron Man rocked the world a while back, especially when they found out that Tony Stark, the genius behind Stark Industries, was Iron Man.

But he also knows that there are others like him, people like Captain America and the Hulk and Merlin knows what else, people who have extraordinary capabilities. People who can, if they’re inclined to, level a town or even a small city easily.

People like him.

But Harry hasn’t dealt with anyone like that in millennia, and he doesn’t plan on starting anytime soon. He left all that behind him when he returned to Midgard for a reason. Caving in now won’t do any good.

An engine purrs smoothly in the distance and Harry looks up to find the Impala he lent Stark pulling up in front of the garage.

“Your car runs incredibly smoothly,” are his first words as he hops out of the car and tosses the keys back to him. “How did you do that? I can’t even make my own cars run like this.”

Harry shrugs and waves away the apologetic looks the woman and the other man shoot him, turning back to the car he’s working on. “It is my job,” he points out dryly, then jabs a finger in the vague direction of the Audi. “You’re good to go.”

Stark grins and starts his car up. A brief flicker of something flashes across his face and he glances at Harry. “Did you work your magic on my car too?” His voice is amused, so Harry just nods. 

“Yeah, couldn’t resist, sorry.”

He gets an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Why are you even apologizing? This is great, I’d like to bring all my cars here.” Stark pulls out his wallet. “How much?” he asks, already counting out notes.

Harry eyes him and wonders how shocked he’ll be when he hears what Harry will charge. “Thousand-fifty.”

For the second time in one morning, Stark gapes at him. “What?” He barrels on without waiting for an answer. “Replacing a clutch on an average car already cost a thousand and seventy, and mine’s an Audi. You even tuned it, shouldn’t you be charging a lot more?”

Harry shrugs. “Anything extra I did is free since it was without your permission,” he says simply. “And I already upped the price for your car.” Let Stark make what he will of that.

For the first time ever, the billionaire looks wary. “You sure?” he asks. “Money’s not a problem for me, you know.”

Harry snorts. “Trust me, Mr. Stark,” he deadpans, “the whole world knows that money isn’t a problem for you.” He caves when Stark just stares at him stubbornly. “It’s not a problem for me too, all right? Now pay and leave, I’ve got work to do.”

Stark passes him the money but stays rooted where he stands. “What car are you working on now?” he asks.

“A Tesla Roadster,” Harry says, wary. 

He doesn’t expect Stark’s expression to light up, or for him to stroll past Harry into his garage while calling over his shoulder, “I’ll give you a hand, I’ve had one before.” Whistling cheerily, he disappears into the back before Harry can say anything.

He stares for a full minute before a hand touches his shoulder, and glances up to find the woman giving him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t bother,” she advises, seeming to read his thoughts. “Tony’s like that. If you try to get rid of him, he’ll just cling on tighter.” When he hesitates, her smile turns slightly sad. “We’ll compensate you for your time,” she offers, already pulling out a checkbook.

Harry finally snaps out of his daze and he hastily pushes the checkbook away. “No, it’s all right,” he rushes to reassure her. “Just got a little caught off-guard, is all. Mr. Stark’s more than welcome to help. It’s not like I don’t need it.”

In that moment, it’s worth it just to see her relief that her boss hasn’t offended someone. But when he looks back on it later, he’s not sure whether he would’ve allowed it if he knew what he knows now.

Because Tony Stark’s defining trait is tenacity, and he’s not going to give up until he gets what he wants.

* * *

 

Harry soon comes to regret ever letting Stark in. He’s stubborn and persistent, probing where others have long learnt to avoid and charming his way past Harry’s defenses faster than he can put them up. He doesn’t think twice before saying and doing whatever he wants, and Harry can’t help but admire that.

In retrospect, it’s a miracle that Stark lasts five days before he asks Harry to come work for him.

“No,” Harry says immediately, almost before the proposition even leaves Stark’s lips. He holds up a hand to stop any arguments the other man will come up with. “I’m perfectly happy working here, and I don’t intend on moving anytime soon.”

After a few more half-hearted protests, Stark gives up, but his calculating stare haunts Harry for several days after that.

But nothing comes of it. Every free moment Stark can spare is spent at the garage helping Harry work on his cars or exploring his apartment with an expression that tells Harry he’s already thinking of upgrades for everything Harry has in there.

The woman, who introduces herself as Pepper Potts, offers to pay him again. Harry declines. It’s not like Stark is causing trouble for him, and he really could use another pair of hands on the job.

He soon discovers exactly why Stark has said nothing about his offer when he finishes work and goes up to find him sprawled on the couch. Harry leans against the door frame and raises an eyebrow at him. He’s long since given up on trying to keep him out of his apartment. “So this is where you disappeared to,” Harry says, surprised that he isn’t bouncing off the walls like he normally does.

Tony grins—because somewhere along the line Stark became Tony—but it’s not him who answers.

“Sir has stated that he is currently satisfied with the upgrades he has given your apartment, Mr. Potter,” says the distinctive voice of Tony’s AI, JARVIS.

The only thing preventing Harry from startling badly is a vague recollection of Tony extracting an agreement out of him a few days prior to install JARVIS into some of his apartment’s systems. But he still raises an eyebrow at Tony anyway.

Tony gives an exaggerated pout. “I was bored,” he whines, “and your apartment was giving me nightmares.” His theatrical shudder brings a reluctant smile to Harry’s lips.

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly and retorts, “There were plenty of cars for you to work on if you were that bored.”

Tony relaxes imperceptibly at the lack of heat in Harry’s voice. “But upgrading you apartment is so much more fun! I gave your coffee machine an AI, ‘cause, you know, I figured you’d need more coffee in your day if you’re always this grumpy. Is that a StarkPhone?” he asks suddenly, jumping to his feet.

Harry glances down at the phone he’s gripping in his hand. “Of course, StarkTech is the best in the industry,” he says matter-of-factly, before he registers the last part of Tony’s sentence. His eyes narrow. “I don’t have a coffee machine.”

Tony shrugs. “Yeah, I placed an order in for you. J, tell Pepper she owes me twenty,” he says suddenly, changing the topic. At Harry’s questioning look, he grins. “She bet me you didn’t use my tech. Good to know she’s wrong.”

His words are said with a hint of teasing, but the way his eyes skitter away from Harry is uncertain. “Get me a picture of Pepper’s face when you tell her, J,” Tony requests, already moving.

“Sir, it would be inadvisable to incur Miss Potts’ wrath any further,” JARVIS says dryly. “You have missed three board meetings this past two weeks. I imagine provoking her would not have a very desirable outcome.”

Tony groans and flops down on the couch again, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “You’re such a killjoy, JARVIS, you know that?” He turns his gaze on Harry, who’s standing at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in hand. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry just laughs at him. “There’s a reason I work on my own, you know,” he points out. “Less people to stress me out.”

Tony sighs, then brightens. “Come on, I’ll show you all the upgrades and stuff. Your coffee machine’s there, by the way,” he says, pointing behind him. Harry looks to find a red and gold coffee machine modeled after Iron Man. He snorts, a small grin tugging at his lips.

Tony smirks and drags him away, listing all the different upgrades he made to the house with JARVIS’ help. Harry finds himself going willingly, just to see what he’s concocted so far.

That’s his first strike.

* * *

The next time Tony comes over after that, Harry’s just returned from Asgard and Tony’s slouched outside his door, eyes empty and bloodshot. He freezes, keys in hand, and watches him carefully.

Because he’s seen those eyes before. He’s seen them in the mirror every year as his family aged around him and he stayed the same. He’s seen them in the faces of his family when the battle was won and they stood there, bloodied and broken, among the bodies of their friends. He’s seen them when Hela witnessed the extent of her brothers’ injuries, and he knows exactly what they mean.

Hopelessness. Despair. Anguish.

That’s what makes him drag Tony into the house and set him on the couch gently. But when he covers him with a blanket, Tony’s hand darts out and catches his wrist. Harry looks up, surprised, and finds Tony staring at him. 

“I’m sorry.” The words are a mere whisper before Tony’s eyes blink close and stay that way.

Harry frowns, but decides to wait until the morning to question him on this odd behavior.

It’s a good thing he did.

His phone vibrates when news about the wild party Tony threw last night comes pouring in. Harry feels a crease form between his eyebrows as he reads about the two Iron Man armors battling it out in front of the guests.

It’d be shameful if he’s lived for this long and yet still can’t recognize suicidal tendencies when he sees them. With a frown, he checks out every news article—and there are a lot—on Tony that’s surfaced during his brief vacation.

He doesn’t like what he sees.

Pepper’s been made CEO of Stark Industries, some senator tried to force Tony to give up his suit, and of course, the wild party last night. Everything screams of danger and hopelessness to Harry, and he should know. He’s gone through this very cycle right after the war and then again when everyone he loved died. This is something he knows intimately, and something he never wants his friends to ever go through. 

Because that’s what Tony is—a friend. Somehow he’s snuck his way into Harry’s life even when Harry tried his best to keep him out, kept coming around even after Harry rejected his job offer and showed him the door. So now he’s Harry’s only friend in the entire realm of Midgard, and he’ll be damned if he has to see Tony go through that.

When Tony wakes, it’s to Harry’s homemade coffee and a still-warm breakfast. Harry waves the mug in front of his face impatiently and demands, “Drink.” Tony obeys and instantly has a plate of food shoved onto his lap, which he eats when Harry stares him down. Satisfied, he pulls out his phone and sends Pepper a quick text that he’s kidnapping her boss for today, then turns it off when he’s immediately flooded with questions that he doesn’t have answers for and demands that can wait.

The board will still be there at the end of the day, but Tony’s mental health is at risk, and Harry will not have anything jeopardizing that.

For the rest of the day, he keeps Tony busy, barking out orders that the billionaire follows immediately, though not without some snark that’s tinged with confusion. Anyone who recognizes Tony and looks ready to say something snide about the disastrous party yesterday—which is to say, everyone—gets a fierce glare and a not-so-subtle threat to shut the hell up.

One customer who didn’t listen gets booted out of the garage. Harry stands over him with a triumphant smirk as he points to the sign on the wall. “It says there that I reserve the right to refuse services to a customer who doesn’t respect my employees, jerk,” he tells him, then turns on his heel and strides back into the garage.

Technically, Tony isn’t his employee, but the man is wise enough not to say anything after that.

Then someone with an eyepatch enters his garage and has the nerve to order Tony to talk to him. Harry glares at him from across the room when he sees that Tony’s trying his best to deflect him. “I don’t know who you think you are, Eyepatch,” he shouts over the noise, “but you can get the hell out of my garage and make an appointment to talk to Tony like any other stranger on this planet.”

When he tries to protest, Harry moves to shield Tony behind him and taps in a combination into the keypad in the wall that slams a door down between the two of them, cutting Harry and Tony off from him.

It’s about time he closed shop, anyway. 

Harry turns and tosses a set of keys at Tony, who’s staring him like he’s never seen him before. He nods at the stairwell hidden behind the office. “Go up to the apartment first,” he says. “I’ll call Pepper and let her know you’re done.”

Tony goes silently, as though he’s still in shock. Harry makes sure he’s out of sight before tapping in the combination to open the door again.

The man is still there. In all black, because he’s some sort of spy who likes to make Tony Stark’s life hell and so needs to blend in with the night. Harry glares at him. Director Nicholas Joseph Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D., a small voice in the back of his head supplies, and Harry doesn’t have to turn his head to know that Death is standing in the nearest corner.

“What do you want with Tony?” he snaps. “And make it quick, because I have work to do.”

Fury just stares at Harry impassively. “Mr. Stark is an asset, and it has come to our attention that he is suffering from a form of poisoning. We would like to help him out with that.”

Harry’s anger only grows at that. “An asset?” he snarls. “That’s how you see Tony? Well, I’ve got news for you, Eyepatch, Tony doesn’t seem to want to be anywhere near you. Follow my advice and make an appointment with his PA or I won’t let you anywhere near Tony.”

Infuriatingly, Fury just smirks. “I already have, Mr. ... ” he trails off, expecting Harry to fill in the blank. When Harry doesn’t, he holds out a paper. “It states here that I have an appointment. Tomorrow, in fact.”

Harry cuts him off. “Then you can wait until then.” He pauses, and delivers his parting shot. “Director Fury.” He taps out the code to shut the door again and stalks away, allowing a brief flash of amusement to disrupt his anger at the memory of Fury’s stunned face.

Being Master of Death has its perks, after all. And Harry’s not above taking advantage of that.

Death fades back into the shadows, her work done. 

“Strike two, Master,” she whispers, an unreadable expression on her face. “How long more until you fall?”

* * *

The third time it happens, Harry’s staring aghast at the television screen as it plays footage from the battle at the Stark Expo. The image is grainy but perfectly captures Tony racing across the sky with several drones behind him, and the explosions behind him are replayed in slow motion as the newscaster talks excitedly. 

“Merlin, I didn’t think anyone could get into more trouble than me,” he mutters to himself. The cup of tea sitting beside him has long since gone cold, forgotten the moment he saw the news about a battle. He picks it up and gulps it down, still staring at the screen.

There’s a crackling in the speakers Tony installed, JARVIS giving him a forewarning. “Oh, you’re watching the news,” Tony’s voice resonates in his apartment. “Which part are they on now?”

Harry glances at the nearest speaker, wry smile tugging on his lips. He should have known. “They’re planning on offering both you and Colonel Rhodes medals of bravery. Not bad.”

Tony scoffs, the sound muffled as though he shouldn’t be talking. “Excuse me, that’s great. I plan on having it framed and put in my office with a plaque that says ‘Stern presented this to me.’”

“Isn’t Stern that senator who wanted to take away your suit? Why would he award you a medal?”

“He doesn’t want to, but he will.” Tony sounds far too gleeful. Harry eyes the speakers warily. “I’m going to call in a few favors later on, but for now I’m in this black van that’s going to some sort of top secret facility. You’d think they’d be a little less obvious, but apparently not. I’m being kidnapped, Harry!”

Harry laughs. “Is it Eyepatch again?”

“Yeah, probably. Don’t know what he wants with me, though. He already gave me my father’s lockbox.” There’s a moment of silence, then Tony speaks hurriedly, “I gotta go. Technically wasn’t supposed to be on the phone to anyone just now.” He hangs up before Harry can say anything. 

Harry smirks, and he’s about to say something to JARVIS when he feels a sudden energy surge. He stumbles at the excess of power, eyes going wide at the familiarity of the surge. “The Bifröst,” he breathes. He throws a couple of things in his bag, already calculating where it came from when he reaches the door.

No Æsir has come to Midgard in centuries. They’ve all preferred to remain on Asgard, especially as Midgard grew steadily more aware of life beyond their own realm. For someone to have used the Bifröst now, especially when there have been so many astrophysicists studying Einstein-Rosen bridges, it would have to have been out of desperation.

JARVIS’ voice brings him to a stop.

“Mr. Potter, if I may ask, where are you going?” Harry thinks he can detect a hint of worry in the AI’s voice, and once again he marvels at the fact that Tony created a soul through lines of codes and numbers. “Sir has asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Harry throws a reassuring look at the nearest camera. “It’s fine, JARVIS, I just need to check on something for a friend,” he says even as he finishes his calculations. For the energy of the Bifröst to have taken so long to reach him, it should be somewhere— “Got it!” He locks his phone. “If Tony asks, tell him that I’ll be in New Mexico today,” he calls over his shoulder, and locks the door behind him.

He races down the flight of stairs and runs to the back, throwing up a ‘Closed’ sign as he goes. There’s an alley behind his garage, narrow and obstructed and perfect for disapparition. He has disillusionment charms already in place, so he doesn’t think twice before disapparating.

He can feel the heat as soon as he appears in the desert. It’s an overwhelming sort of heat that has him unconsciously casting cooling charms on himself. The clothes he’s wearing are transfigured to better suit the weather, and Harry sighs in relief as he feels his spells taking effect.

He’s grown far too used to New York.

No matter. He moves forward, cloaking himself in enough disillusionment and stealth charms for a troll to go unnoticed. There’s something that is very familiar to him about a mile from here. It hums with the same energy that comes from Asgard, and Harry walks quickly, mind whirring with possibilities.

Odin would not have sent an Asgardian relic to Midgard, he knows what will happen to it. There’s no way he would have done that without certain protections. But Harry still finds himself curious, still finds himself moving towards whatever it is.

He ends up standing before a huge crater. It’s huge, perfectly circular and symmetrical, and the surrounding land looks like it’s been blasted out in waves.

But that’s not what catches Harry’s attention. The hammer does.

Mjølnir sits in the center of the crater, still faintly sparking from its trip down the Bifröst. The runes carved into it glow faintly, beckoning Harry closer and closer. But he stays at the edge of the crater, staring down at it in horror and shock.

When he last visited Asgard, they were preparing for Thor’s coronation. Mjølnir was to be presented to him for his new weapon as king. What happened in the time he was away that caused Odin to cast Mjølnir out?

He gets his answer in the form of an illusion not a day later. Frigga is standing in his kitchen when Harry comes out of his bedroom, and he freezes. “Is there a reason for this surprise visit, my Queen?” he asks, wary.

Frigga turns to him, and it’s only then that he notices her ruffled composure. Harry blinks in concern, about to say something, but someone else beats him to it.

“Mr. Potter?” JARVIS sounds alarmed. “May I know who you are talking to?”

Frigga startles and stares around him in surprise. Harry smirks slightly. “Just an old friend, JARVIS,” he says flippantly. “Let’s keep this between us, yeah? I really don’t need Tony corrupting her.”

JARVIS sounds more amused than alarmed when he speaks. It’s an improvement. “Of course, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nods, satisfied, then redirects his attention to the Queen still standing in his kitchen. He arches an eyebrow at her, waiting.

He doesn’t expect to ever hear what she says.

“Haraldr.” Frigga stops. Her fingers lace tightly together. “Loki’s fallen off the Bifröst.” 

Three strikes—and he’s out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the [iron man coffee machine](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/16/bb/5e/16bb5e5ae7b7b29467262d58480e8d29.jpg).


	3. lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so before you read this chapter, there are some things i want to discuss. it's quite long but bear with me. ~~mainly because i know loki's innocence and stuff is kind of a controversial topic in the fandom.~~
> 
> to clear things up, i do _not_ think that loki is completely innocent. but neither do i think that anyone else in asgard is innocent either. everyone had a part to play in loki's actions whether they know it or not, but in this chapter, i focus on what the æsir did wrong. this is because of two reasons.
> 
> firstly, to speak of loki's wrongdoings to a group of people who already believe that loki is evil would be futile and it would undermine the argument that harry is making: that no one is innocent. secondly, this is for the benefit of those people who refuse to believe that thor, the warriors three, sif, or odin did anything wrong. ~~yes, apparently there are people who believe odin is innocent. No, I don't know how.~~
> 
> also, the reason harry is so pissed off at odin is because he has experienced being manipulated by a father figure before. dumbledore used harry all throughout his life for his own gains, and harry—having lived so long—would have figured that out by now.
> 
> he also knows the kind of damage that can do to the victim firsthand. in my opinion, it's kind of worse than most other kinds of manipulation, mainly because the victim would have looked up to the manipulator for so long, and the victim would have done anything to gain the manipulator's approval, even after the manipulation is exposed. in fact, _especially_ after the manipulation is exposed.
> 
> ~~this has nothing to do with me hating manipulative father figures more than most things with a vengeful passion because of my own. no, not at all.~~
> 
> don't worry, loki will be reamed out by harry. but not now. right now, harry is mostly concerned with making sure the æsir know the wrongs of their ways. he'll get his scolding in a later chapter, but it won't be as bad as this. for one, his mental state is already quite unstable. you've seen already what odin's rejection at the bridge did to him. so harry's scolding will come in a way that makes sure loki knows letting his rage at odin keeping such a huge secret from him for a millennium and jealousy of thor get the better of him is wrong, while also making sure that loki knows that harry will never reject him for that and that the æsir have already gotten their scolding.
> 
> besides, the list of crimes committed against loki by the æsir is way more than the list of crimes committed against the æsir―combined―by loki. so really, this is just their rightful comeuppance.

**0 2**

**l i e s**

"Lies and secrets are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind." ― Cassandra Clare

 

Harry teleports to Asgard and into the throne room before Frigga can end her illusion. She stands at the right side of the room, where she always stands. He storms up to her and demands, "What in the name of the Nine do you mean by Loki fell off the Bifröst?"

Before she can answer, a hammer bounces off the shield he has cast permanently around him. It's closely followed by an ax and a mace.

The three weapons clatter onto the floor. Harry turns and stares down at them incredulously. But he dismisses them in favor of questioning Frigga. "What did you mean by that?" he asks, gaze hard.

She stares back at him, head held high despite the tears in her eyes. "Thor and Loki fought on the Bifröst last night, and Loki," she pauses to take a deep breath, "Loki fell because the Bifröst was destroyed in their fight."

Harry gives her a sharp stare. Her eyes are flicking up to the throne and back at him irregularly. Odin's asked her to keep a secret for so long it's become habit already. It's suspect anyway. The Loki he knows would never fight his brother on such a scale as to damage the Bifröst. "What more are you not telling me?"

Frigga manages a small smile at that. "You always were so perceptive, Haraldr," she murmurs. "Even Loki could not fool you for long."

Harry snorts. "I'm evidently not perceptive enough if I still have no idea what secret you and Odin have been keeping from me for years now, am I?" he shoots back, satisfied when her eyes widen in shock. "What, did you think I wouldn't notice the way you're not even able to look me in the eye? You're glancing at Odin every half-second, Frigga. That's a tell. It's obvious."

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, but doesn't get to answer before a low snarl cuts in from across the room. "Do not speak to the All-Mother that way," someone snarls. "Treat her with respect."

Harry snorts, turning fully to face the others. Odin sits heavily on Hliðskjálf, eye dark with something Harry cannot read. But it's not him Harry focuses on.

Thor stands just before Hliðskjálf, his four friends forming a protective half-circle behind him. His hand is outstretched as if to throw a weapon, and Harry looks down at his feet when something thrums against his magic. Mjølnir glows faintly, kept in place by Harry's shield. The ax and the mace―Hridgandr, of course, he forgot about Thor's loyal followers―are embedded into the floor by his feet as well, and their wielders have shifted into a fighting stance.

Harry takes one look at the tense group and calls Mjølnir into his hand. It will not do for Thor to attack him now, and this will jolt him out of his anger. He sends the ax and Hridgandr back to their wielders with a wave of his hand, Mjølnir following soon after.

Thor's eyes are wide as he catches it and straightens. "Who are you?" he breathes.

"I'm wounded, Thor," Harry drawls mockingly. "I left for Midgard not a week ago. Have you forgotten me already?"

The understanding that flashes in his eyes a second too late is almost comical. "Seiðmaðr Haraldr."

Harry nods and turns back to Frigga. "What are you hiding, Frigga?" he asks. "I cannot help you if you don't tell me."

Frigga's eyes flick up to Odin. Harry scowls and turns to Odin. "Well?" he demands.

Odin takes his time answering. His expression is foreboding, as if he knows that Harry will not like the answer he will give. "Loki," he says slowly, "is like you." Harry arches an eyebrow. He has a feeling he knows what's coming. "He was not born of Asgard, Haraldr. He grew mad after that revelation and tried to end the Jötnar for good."

Harry tilts his head. "Why would he―" He cuts himself off when Odin shuts his one good eye. Memories run through his head, of how Loki was coincidentally born a few months after the war with Jötunheim. No such thing as coincidence, his mind whispers maliciously. " _No_." There is so much horror contained in that one word that everyone flinches back from him.

Loki is a Jötunn. Taken from his birth world and adopted by Asgardian royalty for some reason still unknown to him. His birthright kept a secret from all who knew him but Odin and Frigga. Raised not only as a prince of the realm that defeated his own, but also on tales of battle that depict his race as a savage, monstrous, and inferior race.

Why?

But that doesn't matter. Not yet. He glares at Odin. "How could you?" he snarls, half-feral. "You hid this from him for a millennium? Have you no brains? Loki is not a fool, Odin, he's far from it. You must have known he would find out soon enough. Why did you hide it from him?"

Odin sighs, the sound heavy. Frigga bows her head. No one else dares to make a sound. All movement is halted, for fear of the tension building in the throne room. "I thought that by hiding the truth from him, he would be able to accept it better. It did not work as I had planned."

"Obviously," Harry says, temper on a tight leash. "You raised him on stories of the savagery of the Jötnar! You called them monsters right in front of him! You told him that Asgard would always defeat and drive them back! Are you mad? Of course he didn't take it well!" Thor starts forward, anger on behalf on his father on his face. One quelling look from Frigga has him falling back. "He was just told that he was a monster raised to believe he was a man! How can anyone accept that easily?"

Odin frowns at him. "Know your place, Haraldr―"

"No, _you_ know your place, Odin Borson," Harry snaps, fed-up. "I grow tired of your designs. For all you call Loki the God of Lies and Trickery, it is you, Destroyer of Worlds, you who are the true manipulator. You raised Loki to believe that the Jötnar were monsters! How did you think he was going to react when he found out that he himself was a Jötunn?"

Harry is especially touchy about this, about father figures manipulating children. Dumbledore did it to him all his life, and he didn't realize it until long after the battle was won and the blood of the dead had soaked into the Hogwarts grounds. So many more could have lived, been redeemed, if only Dumbledore had stopped playing at puppet master just once.

His voice softens dangerously. "Do not forget who once stood by your father and his father before him in battle, Odin. You would be a fool to assume that I am loyal to you or Asgard. I am loyal to none but whom I choose. Do not forget that."

He waves a hand in Odin's direction, sending out a silent call. Huginn and Muninn fly down from the sides of Hliðskjálf and settle on his shoulders, nipping gently at his ears. Odin may have command over them as their master, but Harry's jurisdiction is death, and ravens have long been her creatures. They have been both Odin and Harry's eyes and ears for centuries, and now he needs to know everything that transpired on Asgard.

So Harry whispers, "Show me," and is immediately transported to their memory-scape.

Hours of memory pass by in seconds as he witnesses everything that transpired on Asgard. He sees Thor's interrupted coronation and then the aftermath of the battle on Jötunheim. Thor is banished and Loki discovers who he is in the vaults beneath the palace, the Casket turning his skin a frost-like blue. He sees Odin tell Loki the truth and―Laufey's son? Odin dared to take a foreign prince―an infant, no less―hostage and raise him to be a martyr for a cause he had no part in yet?

Harry's eyes, now glowing a wild emerald, shift up to glare at Odin.

But he will deal with that later.

He sees Odin fall into the Odinsleep and Frigga crown Loki regent. Then Laufey attacks and Loki defends his sleeping father, claiming the House of Odin as his own, even though he promised Laufey safe passage through Asgard to kill Odin. Harry is shocked when he realizes the extent to which Loki is willing to go to just for Odin's approval.

What has he done?

The Destroyer is sent to Earth and Thor wins back the right to his powers, returning to Asgard just in time to stop Loki from destroying Jötunheim. Then Loki and Thor fight on the Bifröst, just as Frigga said. But she neglected to mention that Thor was the one to destroy the Bifröst, or that Loki chose to fall because Odin rejected him.

The weight on his shoulders lighten now that the sequence of memories are over, and the ravens lift up into the air, circling around in Harry's head once before flying away as he faces Odin.

"Laufey's son?" he asks, horrified. "You took a foreign prince hostage without agreement―no, stop," he holds up a hand to stop Odin's protest, "you know that's what you did to Loki―to ensure peace between Asgard and Jötunheim. Without agreement, Odin. When the Ancient Romans were still on Midgard, you called them barbaric for taking the sons of tributary princes hostage and raising them to be potential Roman emperors. The Ancient Chinese too held your condemnation for doing the same. Yet here you are, seeing nothing wrong with what you did to Loki. To an infant child who did not yet know of his purpose in your plans."

And there's something wrong about the whole picture. The Laufey he knows would never have abandoned his son anywhere, no matter his size. Odin is keeping something to himself. But now is not the time to confront him with that.

Harry tilts his head and steps forward so that he's standing just before Hliðskjálf. Thor and his friends fall back, recognizing that it is futile to try to stop him. "Have you truly changed so much?" he says sorrowfully. "Has Asgard changed so much that they would accept such treatment of another realm's royalty?"

Odin doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. Harry can see his regret written in his slumped shoulders, in the way his grip on Gungnir is more white-knuckled than before, in the new worry lines stretched across his face. He worries about what will happen to Loki, what has already happened to Loki.

Harry softens.

"It was not your intent, yes," he says, quieter now. His voice still carries easily in the silent hall. "But Loki had a right to that knowledge, Odin. You cannot deny him the chance to know the truth." His eyes flick up to the mural above him, the one that shows a made-up history free of the blood and gore that Odin and Hela trailed behind them everywhere. The look he gives Odin next is meaningful.

Again, Odin tries to protest. "He is my son, I only wanted to protect him―"

Harry cuts him off. "Yes, he is your son, but are you also his father?" Odin blinks in shock and incomprehension. "Does the love and loyalty go both ways? You never told him if you loved him, you know."

For once in his life, Odin seems speechless. "I..."

Harry sighs. "You have been a great king, Odin, but your flaw lies in you never doing what is right by your children." Yet another hint that Odin should confess his lies. Thor grew up thinking that he was Odin's firstborn for years. Loki grew up believing he was a Æsir. And Hela―Hela grew up on a battlefield, where death was her birthright and carnage her worth.

Odin stiffens, but he is interrupted by someone else.

"If Loki had known sooner, then Asgard would have fallen into peril earlier," a female voice says, bitter with betrayal.

Harry quirks a sideways glance at the speaker. It's Lady Sif, one of the best warriors in all of Asgard, and also one of the proudest. "If Loki had known the truth sooner," he says calmly, though he feels anything but, "he would have had the chance to acclimatize to being adopted. He would not have had to go through the pain of realizing that all of Asgard thought of his people as monsters."

"They _are_ monsters," Sif says spitefully. Not one of the warriors by her side stop her, not even Thor. "Loki sent the Destroyer after Thor even though he knew he was defenseless. He is a monster."

"And would you not try to take vengeance upon those who slighted you, Lady Sif?" Harry counters immediately. He knows he's hit a sore spot when an old anger flashes across her eyes. No doubt of the Æsir always doubting her capability as a warrior. They have always been a prejudiced race. "What Loki did was wrong, yes, but it is also understandable."

He directs his gaze to Thor, who's been standing there with a look of dawning realization as they spoke. "You never respected Loki as prince of Asgard. He was always the second-best, always supposed to defer to his brother. It was unwitting, but it affected Loki all the same. No one can go through that and not want some form of revenge."

At least, he did. His revenge was subtle, but he used to taunt the Dursleys all the time with the thought of magic and even Sirius. It soothed his pain, brought him some comfort. He isn't surprised that Loki tried to do something similar, but in a more drastic way. Harry only had to endure sixteen years of neglect and abuse. Loki suffered for a millennium.

"And you." The three other warriors by Thor stand to attention immediately. Good. He still garners some respect among them. "Have you forgotten already how you came to be the princes' companions? You were permitted to befriend them. You were to give them their loyalty and counsel them in times of need. Yet what did you do when Thor desired to go to Jötunheim?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. "Only Fandral and Volstagg tried to stop him. But not you, Hogun, nor you, Sif. And then you had the nerve to go marching up to Loki, your rightful king and regent while Odin was in the Odinsleep, and demand that he rescind Thor's sentence. When that didn't work, you went to Heimdall, and though you and the Gatekeeper were all sworn to your king, you all committed treason―he by allowing you into Midgard, and you by seeking Thor out, both against Loki's direct orders."

Harry gentles when he sees them bow their heads in shame. "Loyalty is to be commended, yes, but blind loyalty must be condemned. You were blinded by your loyalty to the princes as warriors as Asgard and this blindness led you to folly and even treason. Do you understand?"

He gets a fervent agreement, and even Hogun mumbles something. He nods.

"But," he looks to Frigga, "I'm assuming that isn't why you summoned me."

She still holds herself regally even as she nods, admitting that she needs help. Harry has to admire her composure. "I would ask that you use your _skills_ ," Frigga puts a certain emphasis on that word, "to find out how fares Loki."

Harry arches an eyebrow at that. It's been a long time since he's done that. "And are they allowed to know?" He doesn't have to point 'them' out, they both know he means the warriors standing behind them with confused looks as to what they are talking about.

"Yes." Odin's tired voice has Harry turning sharply. He sees the toll his words have taken on him and feels a flicker of regret. But also knows that Odin has to realize the damage his actions have caused to Loki, to everyone. "I trust them." He pauses. "Do you?"

Harry turns and eyes them. Thor's stance is firm, but his expression is grief-stricken. Sif has averted her eyes and looks conflicted. Fandral looks grave, and the foil in his hands is almost drooping. Hogun's mace rests heavily on the floor, and even Volstagg is serious.

He knows his answer before he even says it. "Yes."

He holds his hand out, fingers curled around empty air. A silver hourglass materializes there, and the luminous granules run quickly as they watch. A black cloak comes into being before him and as the last granule falls into place, the hourglass turns into a scythe and the figure solidifies.

It's no more than an ostentatious ceremony, an elaborate ritual that hides his true connection with the one he calls on now. No one knows of his true identity and they never will. He will not have people taking advantage of him to get to Death.

There's a gasp of shock. Or maybe more, Harry can't tell. All his attention is on the figure before him.

"Haraldr." It's a low almost-purr of delight. "You have not called me in centuries."

Harry smiles genuinely. "Hello, Samael." That is the name they've agreed on when they have company. "Apologies for disturbing you. I need a favor."

The cowl tilts to the side. "A favor, Haraldr?" Death is more than happy to play along, it seems. Good. "And what would you offer me in return?"

Harry holds out the scythe as an answer.

Death accepts. There's a sharp gleam under the cowl. "Ask away."

Harry doesn't waste anymore time. "Is Loki of Asgard still alive?"

Silence. Then― "Yes," she hisses. "He is in pain, Haraldr. So much pain. Do you desire for me to end it?"

Thor starts forward, gripping Mjølnir tightly. Frigga's hand goes to her mouth. Harry flaps a hand at them absently. "No," he says, loud and clear. "Stand down. That will be all, thank you."

She inclines her head at him and fades away, taking the scythe with her.

Harry doesn't look at anyone when he asks, "Is that all?" because he knows someone would have noticed his little wordplay there. If not Frigga, then Odin.

He's not wrong. But it's Thor who speaks, not his parents. "You called him Loki of Asgard," Thor says, brow furrowed. "Not Loki Odinson. Why?"

A sharp smile plays across Harry's lips. It's dangerously close to becoming serrated. "That's because _Odin's_ son died on the Bifröst when Odin rejected him," he says, voice cutting. That is the one thing he cannot forgive or forget: Loki hanging by a thread over the void as he begged and pleaded with Odin, a neglectful father who simply rejected him when he didn't live up to his expectations.

He flicks his gaze up at where Odin sits, pale with horrified understanding. "Don't worry," he continues, tone dripping in contempt, "for as long as Frigga lives, he'll stay loyal to Asgard."

He turns on his heel and vanishes before anything else can be said.

* * *

A year.

It's been a year and Loki is still missing. The lines on Odin's face deepen every day, and Frigga nearly cries every time they return with no new findings. Thor disappears into his room where sounds of destruction ensue for the next two hours, and the Warriors Three and Sif look steadily guiltier every time they meet.

Even Death cannot help. "He is somewhere not in the Nine Realms," she hisses, angered at this blurring of her sight. "But he is hidden from me, I know not by what. I want it _gone_ , Haraldr."

Harry can only give her a solemn nod and a promise to do what he can.

He visits Jötunheim once, heals the damage caused by Thor and Loki in exchange for another truce. Helblindi, the new Jötun king, accepts with a hint of relief. Harry doesn't ask too many questions, just one. The answer he gets both heartens and saddens him.

Tony is worried too, but for a completely different reason. "Just how many times are you going to disappear for a few days this month?" he asks when Harry finally returns from yet another trip to Alfheim. As ever, Aldrif has nothing to report. But he does not blame her for it. None of them do. "I have board meetings to attend, you know."

"You never attend most of them." They both know it's a half-hearted deflection. Tony doesn't even bother to answer that, just stares at him over the rim of his liquor glass.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry sighs. "My friend is missing," he admits. "I've been searching for him with his family for a while now. That's why I've been going on so many trips."

That is, perhaps, the biggest understatement this side of the millennium.

Yet, vague as it is, Tony sits up, eyes sharpening. "I can help! Why haven't you told me about this earlier? JARVIS, open up a scanner. Harry, do you have any photos of your friend―"

" _Tony_." The sheer weariness in that one word surprises even Harry, and Tony jolts around to stare at him in shock.

"Tony," he repeats, "as much as I would love for you to help, there is nothing you can do for my friend. If even his family cannot find him, then no one will. The only thing we have been able to find is that he is not dead." He rubs a hand over his face and continues tiredly. "He cannot be found with anything regarding technology, and there is a high chance that he doesn't want to be found either."

It only takes a few moments for Tony to read between the lines. "You mean that whatever happened to him is something similar to Afghanistan." His voice is flat.

Harry just nods.

Tony studies him for a while longer before nodding decisively. "Okay." He flops back down on the couch, liquor glass discarded on the coffee table with a careless grace. "So what do you want to do today? There are a few bars still open but I doubt you'd want to go. You're such a prude sometimes, you know?"

"What?"

Tony looks up at him and grins. "You thought I was going to let go of this, weren't you? Yeah, no, but I won't press for today. Now sit, you look like death warmed over." Harry snorts at that utterly accurate description. "What? Come on, sit. You look worse than me after I get out of my lab."

"I am glad you realize it, Sir," JARVIS quips, sending Harry into a fit of laughter. It's hoarse but genuine, and he blinks when he realizes that he can't remember the last time he laughed. Probably before Loki went missing.

Tony pouts childishly into the nearest camera. "But J, don't you love me?" He clutches dramatically at an imaginary string of pearls around his neck when judgmental silence ensues. "JARVIS! You wound me!"

"Oh dear," JARVIS responds. "Do you require an ambulance? Perhaps emergency services would be best, seeing as you're swooning."

And indeed, Tony is placing the back of his hand on his forehead as his eyes roll into the back of his head dramatically.

Harry laughs and jabs him in the side. "Move over, old man. You're taking up the entire couch."

Tony huffs at him. "Sure, gang up on me with the AI that I built. You know," he calls out suddenly, "I heard Hammer Industries is looking for a new assistant. I might just donate you to them."

"Oh no, Sir, I wouldn't want that," JARVIS retorts. "Regular working hours and a simple job sounds far too stressful for an AI of my meager capabilities."

That sends Harry into another fit of laughter.

Tony lets him be for a few more seconds before he drags Harry onto the couch and sets a bowl of popcorn in his lap. "Don't move," he instructs. "The popcorn was expensive."

Harry snickers.

But that's the last bit of happiness he'll get in the next few weeks.

* * *

"The All-Father has decided to declare Loki officially dead," are the first words Harry is greeted with when he arrives back on the edge of Glaðsheim. It's Lady Sif who bears this news, and she has yet to meet Harry's eyes after the scolding he gave her.

Harry feels a flash of pity for her. She fought long and hard for her position as a female warrior, and to be scolded by a founding member of the Einherjar must have been terrible for her.

Then he remembers Loki, remembers training him while warriors pass by and mock him. "Argr," they called him. Unmanly―one of the worst insults you can ever give someone on Asgard. He remembers Sif being praised for her perserverance while Loki was belittled for taking up such a feminine art.

Suddenly, that flash of pity is gone.

Then he registers what Sif said and his eyes narrow. "Odin has decided to call off the search for Loki?"

Sif gives him a wary look. "Yes," she says slowly. "The people are calling for closure, and he seeks to give them what they want."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry can understand why Odin did that. If he was in Odin's position, he cannot say if he would not have done the same. It is so easy to condemn him for it, to say it's hard-hearted of him to declare his son dead just like that. But millennia of observing people have tempered Harry's judgment, and he no longer sorts people by the black-and-white mindset his younger self had.

So he simply nods. "Very well, then I shall continue searching for him myself."

Sif looks up, alarmed. "Seiðmaðr, the All-Father has commanded all searches to be stopped, including yours."

"Apologies?"

Now she looks a little awkward. "The All-Father has called for all searches to be put to a halt, on the grounds that there is no use in searching for one who disappeared into the void so long ago."

Frowning, Harry asks, "Did he say why?" When she shakes her head, he thanks her and goes to find Odin.

He's not in his throne room, for once, but in a corner of Glaðsheim almost no one has seen before: Hela's quarters. They're still untouched, just as she left them the last time she was in here. So much dust has collected over the centuries that the entire place looks gray with gloom. Harry pauses, hovering just outside the door, and watches as Odin picks up the first set of throwing daggers she had.

"None of us could have changed what she did, you know," he says. Odin starts and sets it down abruptly.

"Haraldr."

"Odin."

They stare at each other for a while before Harry asks, "Why did you stop the search?"

Odin closes his eyes and turns back to Hela's quarters. Harry waits, knowing that Odin will give in. True enough, Odin sighs and says, "He is far too much like her for my liking. I fear what finding him could cause, especially after I heard that he tried to wipe out Jötunheim." He faces Harry. "It's for the best if we leave it be."

"But how do you know if he is becoming like Hela?" Harry counters almost immediately. "She sought to conquer everything for her own greed. Loki sought to end the war between Asgard and Jötunheim without any harm caused to Asgard. He sought your approval in everything he did, Odin. That is the distinction between him and Hela. Though their actions were similar, their motives were different. You cannot compare them like this."

Odin's shoulders slump and he looks away. "And how are you to know if he will truly not become like her?" he asks, sounding more defeated than Harry's ever heard him sound. "I see so much of her in him."

"Perhaps that has something to do with you basing his Æsir disguise on her appearance," Harry remarks.

Odin doesn't even grace that with a reply.

Harry heaves a sigh. "Odin, even if you see Hela in Loki―unlikely as it is―he deserves a chance to explain himself. You cannot decide his fate if he is not even here to plead his case. You will never know what goes on in another's head without asking them." He sees that Odin is not convinced, so he presses, "Let go of the past and focus on the present. You have already lost one daughter. Don't lose your son because you cannot let her go."

But in spite of all the troubles Harry has undertaken for Odin, all he gets in return is Odin turning away from him and saying, "I'll think about it." His stance makes it clear that the conversation is over, and Harry has no choice but to bow his head and leave.

For all his strengths, Odin has never been good at listening to someone else's opinion, particularly not when the person in question has a lower status.

It doesn't matter now. He's been meaning to speak to someone anyway, but he has yet to do so for lack of time. With this in mind, Harry heads to the Bifröst.

It doesn't take him long to find Heimdall. He's standing at the very edge of the bridge, Hofund embedded into the part before him. Harry walks just behind him and drops his wards, peering down at the void. He doesn't bother to announce his presence. Heimdall will do it for him.

"Well met, magician." There's a faint hint of displeasure in his tone, just as there is every time Harry talks to him. He's not surprised. Heimdall has never liked anyone who can evade his sight.

Harry looks up, seeing that Heimdall has already turned to face him. "Well met, Gatekeeper," he answers. "Though I suppose you are not very worthy of the title after committing treason against your king and sworn liege so many times."

Heimdall's golden eyes narrow at him. "I would be careful what you suggest, magician," he warns.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Yeah, no." Suddenly, he's striding forward, anger written in every inch of his body. "You enabled Thor's departure to Jötunheim knowing it would interfere with Odin's desire to broach the invasion to Laufey in a diplomatic fashion. In doing so, you endangered the lives of everyone who went with Thor along with those of countless others who could have been killed in the potential war. You sent Sif and the Warriors Three down to Midgard to retrieve Thor, then lifted Hofund against Loki―your rightful king―when he came to question you." He comes to a stop just before Heimdall, glaring. "What is your defense?"

Heimdall's lips curl slightly in a silent snarl when he hears Harry's sardonic tone. "He is not my rightful king," he says instead. "I only serve the All-Father."

"And yet your oath was to Asgard," Harry notes. "Interesting."

With a sharp movement, Hofund comes free and Heimdall holds it tightly, furious. "Watch yourself, magician. You forget who you are speaking to."

"No, you are the one who has forgotten," Harry snaps. "I have served Asgard for longer than you have. I know its people better than you. Do not forget who helped gift you your power, Gatekeeper. I have the power and the influence to take it away just as quickly as it was granted to you. Asgard has no shortage of potential Gatekeepers. Let your pride and your self-interest get in the way of your duty again and I'll make you watch as everything you have crumbles before you. Is that understood?"

Heimdall is wise enough to know not to cross Harry, especially when he is reminded of who Harry really is. He gives a stiff nod.

Harry nods back at him. "Good. I'll leave you to your duty then, Gatekeeper."

Before he leaves, he throws up his wards again, smirking at the glare Heimdall shoots him when Harry's obscured from his sight again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun things are happening next chapter! (i.e. tony finding out about harry's magic, fury coming to ask harry for help―partly because of satellite images, partly because of a little digging and reconnaissance he did―in the mess with loki.)


	4. reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is staring at him with understanding clear in his eyes. It's not pity, or even sympathy, but rather a silent solidarity. It's only then that Harry realizes that out of everyone he knows on Midgard, Tony is probably the only one who _will_ understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is kind of late, but firstly, I was in camp for the past few days, and secondly, the site I use deleted every change I made to it yesterday so I had to retype everything.
> 
> But enough about that. Hope you like this chapter!

**0 3**

**r e v e a l**

"Once you drop a mask, you can never wear it again." ― Ljupka Cvetanova

 

Harry is jolted from his sleep when a sudden hissing erupts in his room. He jams his glasses onto his nose clumsily and nearly falls out of bed when the hissing escalates to a sharp wail that could put a banshee to shame.

His flailing hand catches the lamp by accident, the other grasping the wand under his pillow, and he blinks owlishly when the room is suddenly washed in warm yellow light. Squinting into the corner, he sees a shadow that shouldn't be there and sighs. He sits up and stashes the wand back under his pillow.

"Death." His voice is flat. "Care to explain why you felt the urge to act like a banshee today?"

Death is too agitated to do anything about his obvious insolence. She whirls towards him, light glinting strangely under her hood. The reflections shift eerily as a sign of her growing distress. "Souls are being forcefully corrupted," she snarls, all righteous anger and wrathful entity. "Someone has robbed people of their minds. This goes against everything in the laws of the universe. You must help, Master."

Harry's already getting up. He casts an absent _Lumos_ as he fills a bowl with water. "Is this someone the person behind all this, or is he a servant?" he asks, casting a few distilling spells.

Scrying has a notorious perfectionism to it, and Harry has no desire to mess up right now.

"A servant," Death answers. "I have yet to determine if he was violated in the same way or not. He is shielded from my eyes."

"Can you find out who he is?"

There's a silence as Death searches. The only warning she gives is a small intake of breath before she turns to him. "The Asgardian you seek," she begins, and Harry snaps his head around to her, "they are one and the same."

Harry's breath catches in his throat. "What?" His voice is faint, hardly daring to believe it.

Death shoots him a glance, and the reflections dance in an imitation of concern. "Yes." She sounds unsure. "But as I said, I have no way of knowing how he came to be in the thrall of someone who would invade Midgard in such a way."

Harry nods and mutters a few choice words when he succeeds in his task. All the endless details are giving him a migraine. "Where was this?"

"In the Mojave Desert." Death is still pacing, but it is less agitated now. She comes around to his side and stares at the surface of the water when it starts to shimmer. Harry waves a hand and it clears to form the image of a destroyed base. A familiar figure in black and an eye-patch is striding out of it right now with a few other agents.

Death snarls in fury. "It is that infernal agency again! They somehow brought the Asgardian here!"

Harry glances up at her in amusement even though he can feel his own temper simmering beneath his composure. "We don't know if the base is actually theirs," he reminds her. But he wouldn't be surprised if it is, because for a covert spy agency, S.H.I.E.L.D. has never known when to stop.

Death's incredulous stare says as much.

Harry sighs. "You know what I mean, don't assume the worst of everyone. You can't do that, you're supposed to judge their souls, for Merlin's sake."

Her stare doesn't let up. It just changes to the one he knows means 'I think you're really naïve and I don't mean it in a cute way, so I'm wondering why on earth I even kept you around'.

He rolls his eyes at her. "You kept me around because I beat you at your own game and you found me interesting," he reminds her. "But you didn't come here to discuss―for the millionth time, might I add―why you decided to keep me around. And don't you have souls to collect?"

Death subsides then, still muttering to herself. But she does leave, so Harry counts it as a victory.

Then a note flutters to the ground where she stood not a minute later, the blocky letters she uses when she's in a fit detailing the complete idiocy of spies.

Harry shakes his head and waves a hand over the bowl. He suspects she'll be even more furious when she returns, so he decides to get his sleep now before she does.

He has a feeling he won't be getting much of that over the next few days.

* * *

Death is back and working herself into another fit just as Harry ends his shift for the day. He watches her amusedly from where he's finishing up his dinner.

"The fools put two of those accursed stones together!" she cries in exasperation. "They haven't been together since the beginning of the universe! What were they thinking?"

The Infinity Stones. Harry feels a chill go through him. Objects of such great power that they were torn apart so they would never come together. No sane person would put them on the same planet, let alone in the same room.

"They have not lived as long as you or I," Harry points out, but only gets a scoff and more angry pacing for his troubles. He sighs. "Who put the stones together?"

She all but grits out, "The Asgardian."

The word is said as though it's a curse, and Harry is so bemused it takes him a while to process what she just said. But when he does, he bolts up. "Say that again?"

Asgard is not very old, but they have lived long enough to know to never put any of the stones together. Loki, especially, he warned of the dangers when he read up about the Infinity Stones. He knows enough to never go near any of them. There is no way he'd do that of his own free will.

But before he can question Death, there's a sudden disturbance in the living room that Harry recognizes as JARVIS trying to get his attention. He'd only allowed Tony to install cameras and speakers in the living room, not wanting him to find out about Death or any of Harry's special skills, so JARVIS has taken to projecting distorted sounds out of the speakers to get Harry's attention.

Harry exchanges a quick look with Death. She nods and slips away into the shadows as he opens the door and sticks his head out. "Yes?" he calls.

"Mr. Potter, Director Fury seems to be demanding that you let him in," JARVIS says. Harry sympathizes with the undercurrent of irritation in his voice. Fury can be quite aggravating. "I am not certain of what he desires to accomplish by shouting at a closed door this late at night. However, I would suggest doing something about it, as some of your neighbors seem quite irritated by him."

Harry's already pulling on a jacket. "JARVIS, make sure no one gets into this place, all right? I don't trust him not to be a distraction."

"Of course, Mr. Potter."

Harry nods gratefully and goes down to the garage, locking the door behind him. He pulls open a side door―one he's made sure no one in front can't see him from―and walks out to where Fury stands.

He's clad in his usual black trench coat and eye-patch, but he seems unusually ruffled today. Not surprising, considering who he'd just encountered. Harry takes no small amount of pleasure in clearing his throat loudly and watching him startle before turning to face him. Fury's expression when he sees Harry just standing there makes it extremely clear that he'd like nothing more than for Harry to drop dead right now.

Harry doesn't give him that sort of pleasure. He arches an eyebrow and asks pointedly, "I assume this has to do with something important, Director Fury?"

He can see Fury grit his teeth even from this distance. It's clear even before his next words are forced out that he'd rather be anywhere but here right now. "I need your help."

"And what makes you think I can help a spy agency?"

Fury snorts, an undignified sound that is so out-of-place with his stoic demeanor that Harry wants to laugh. It's also then that he realizes that S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about him going to New Mexico when Mjølnir appeared. Fury proves this right when he says, "We have a few satellite images of you appearing out of nowhere in New Mexico, close to where that magic hammer landed. You also knew my name and title even though we have never met. I think all that is reason enough to believe that you know something about the attack a few hours ago."

Harry hums in acknowledgement. Fury's gaze sharpens. "Yeah, wasn't very subtle. I could feel it even here." He quirks an eyebrow at Fury. "So. What did you want from me again?"

He still hasn't made any move to invite Fury in and both of them know it. It's a power play, simple as that.

Or perhaps more, seeing as Harry enjoys it a little more than he should when Fury's lips curl up in a silent snarl. But he has enough self-preservation instincts to keep himself from rubbing it in.

On second thoughts, never mind all that. Nothing can keep him dead, anyway. "Well? I haven't got all day."

Fury looks ready to punch him. Harry has to hide a smirk behind his hand when he says grudgingly, "I want to know more about this Loki character. You knew Thor and his hammer, it'd make sense that you would know his brother."

Harry tilts his head. "Depends on what you want to know. I don't exactly trust you."

"Mr. Potter, this concerns the safety of our nation―" Fury begins.

"And whose fault would that be?" Harry interrupts. "You were the one messing with powers out of your control, out of _anyone's_ control. Whose fault is it that someone has taken the Tesseract, which would have remained buried if you hadn't gone digging around for it?"

Fury stares at him. "How do you know about the Tesseract?"

"Same way I know about Loki, Thor, and Mjølnir: none of your damn business."

Fury scowls again. "This isn't about you, Mr. Potter. This is about someone with magical powers―not unlike yourself," he adds, "come to think of it―who has taken something of great power and is using it for evil as we speak."

"Again, whose fault is that?" Harry counters, not rising to the bait. "I'm not saying I won't help you, Director, but there is a limit as to how much information I am willing to give, seeing as I don't even know what you intend to do with that information."

And, oh, Fury is clenching his fists in anger. Harry has forgotten what it's like to taunt someone he doesn't trust or like as far as he can throw them. It's exhilarating. He can see why it was his guilty pleasure back in Hogwarts.

As such, it takes quite a bit of effort to rein himself in. Time has taught him the wisdom in being cautious and shown him the folly of getting caught up in his fun. It will not do to let Fury catch him off-guard and gain the upper hand. But it also will not do for Fury to find out that Harry needs Fury's connections as much as he needs his help, so he leans back in his chair and waits.

Fury just stares straight back at him.

The silence stretches on, neither willing to back down, until Fury finally caves. His eyes hold a grudging respect for Harry's successful use of a basic interrogation technique on him. It's still there when he says, "I want to know about this whole Asgardian business: what the hell they are, what they can do, and who Loki is. Thor, too, while you're at it."

Harry thinks it over carefully and acquiesces, "Fair enough." He catches the red light of a voice recorder under Fury's coat and can't help but roll his eyes. Spies and their little games, honestly. "An Asgardian is a being with superhuman capabilities. Just think Captain America with even more enhancements. Your weapons would likely not make much of a difference to them."

"Then how do you keep them down?"

Harry just gives him a sharp smile and continues, completely ignoring what he just said, "You would be wise to fear them. There is a good reason why people worshipped them as gods."

Fury snorts. "Oh yeah? They'd probably consider us gods too if they could see us now," he mutters.

"I assure you, Director," Harry says coolly, "that they are far beyond your science right now. You're not quite there yet as a whole."

Fury looks at him steadily. "'As a whole'," he says, "is there anyone you'd consider to be nearing their level?"

Harry nods. "You know most of them already," he says. "Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Jane Foster. They are all capable of working up to what Asgard has right now in a matter of years."

The gears whirring away in Fury's head are almost audible. He leans forward. "So they are capable of creating weapons to take down these Asgardians?"

Harry shoots him a sharp look. "Force Tony to make weapons for you and I'll make you watch as I bring your entire organization crashing down." His words hold a dark promise, making it clear that he has no qualms following through on his promise.

His signature scowl is back. It really should be patented, he could probably make a lot of money from that.

"Then how do you suggest we defend ourselves?"

Harry shrugs. "If you ask me, the best way to do that would be to sign a treaty with Asgard. You don't have enough manpower to figure out Asgardian technology yet, it'd be unwise of you to try now. Thor could help with the Asgard side, if you ask nicely."

Fury nods. He seems unable of thinking of anything to say to Harry right now, so he turns to leave. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't have all day. He still needs to figure out where the Infinity Stones went.

But Fury's voice stops him before he can go any further. "One more thing, Mr. Potter." He waits for Harry to turn back to him. "S.H.I.E.L.D. needs you to come in."

Harry raises an eyebrow. He didn't expect that. "Why?"

"Because I've seen what one of those Asgardians can do and it's terrifying," Fury says, expressionless. "None of us are trained to deal with them, and out of everyone in this world, you're probably the only one with enough experience to make a difference. We need you to come in."

Harry looks closer at Fury when he hears the note of uncertainty in his voice. He sees the way his expression is completely closed off, the same way it is for him when he wants to hide his true emotions. It's only then he understands that this is a genuine plea for help and not manipulation.

He makes his decision quickly enough after that realization.

"When do we start?"

* * *

Harry finds himself staring up at Stark Tower before the night is over.

Before leaving, Fury told him to go to Stark Tower because he'd already sent one of his agents there to brief Tony. "It saves us the added time of having to brief you both separately," he said. Both of them know exactly what he meant but didn't say: that Harry is to keep an eye on Tony and make sure he doesn't do anything S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't approve of.

But Fury's a fool if he thinks that Harry will actually spy on one of the only friends he has in the entire realm of Midgard. Then the scanner flashes an approval for him to enter and Harry pushes past the door, coinciding with JARVIS' voice ringing out in the deserted lobby.

"Welcome to Stark Tower, Mr. Potter," JARVIS says. "If you would go to the elevator now, I believe Miss Potts and Agent Coulson are now on their way down. I'll send you up to Sir promptly."

Harry nods at the nearest camera. "Thanks, JARVIS." He waits patiently, and when the elevator doors finally open, he's greeted by the sight of Pepper Potts standing next to an unfamiliar man. That'll be Agent Coulson, then.

Pepper's face lights up when she sees him. "Harry!" She strides forward and hugs him tightly. "How are you? Tony said you haven't been around lately, is everything okay?"

Harry laughs and hugs her back. "I'm fine, Pepper. Tell you about it later." He waves at Coulson. "Agent Coulson."

Coulson nods. "Mr. Potter, I presume?" When Harry nods, he smiles thinly. "Glad to hear it. Miss Potts?"

"Just a minute, Phil," Pepper says, eyes scanning Harry's face worriedly. "You sure you're okay? Tony's been worrying himself for weeks. I was too. You couldn't even turn up for tonight's grand opening."

Harry smiles reassuringly at her. "I promise I'm fine, Pepper," he says, amused. "Go on, aren't you flying off tonight?"

Pepper hums in acknowledgement. "Yeah, I'll be in D.C. for the next few days. I have to work on some zoning." Her tone is light-hearted, but her gaze is still worried. "Call if you need anything, okay?"

Harry stares at her, taking in the clear worry for him. Harry, not anyone else. He smiles. "I promise," he says, and Pepper hugs him again before leaving.

He doesn't have too much time to dwell on it, because JARVIS sends the elevator up the moment he steps in, and he enters the penthouse just as Tony is pulling up some old notes.

Tony glances over and grins. "Harry! JARVIS said you were coming. What's up?"

Harry shrugs. "Fury asked me to help," he replies, jumping up to take a seat on the table. He pulls one of the holograms closer, flicking through it quickly. It's on the Hulk, who they've apparently recruited as well. He scans through the file―finding nothing he hasn't already read―and pulls the next file over. This one is Captain America, and Harry has to hold back a laugh when he sees all the ridiculous propaganda being referenced in it.

America has truly forgotten who Steve Rogers once was.

Then he realizes that Tony hasn't spoken once in the time since he sat down and quickly glances up. Tony's staring at him in slight suspicion. "Fury asked you to help?" he repeats. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

Harry snorts. "Yes, Tony. Director Nicholas Joseph Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D., that Fury, yes."

Tony starts slightly. "No way, his middle name is Joseph―wait, how do you know his middle name?" His brow is furrowed and he's staring at Harry like he's suddenly announced that he's Howard Stark reincarnated.

Oh. Harry stills. He slipped up. Fury wouldn't have told Harry his full name, he's a master spy. That was a mistake. He clears his throat, averting his eyes. "Caught sight of his ID when he dropped his wallet," he lies.

"Good try, Harry," Tony snaps, eyes flashing. "But you and I both know Fury isn't clumsy enough to drop his damn wallet where someone else can see it. How did you know?"

Harry flinches back on instinct. Every instance where someone reacts badly towards his magic flashes through his mind, causing his breathing to quicken. The fluorescent lights of a laboratory flash over his head as he stumbles over rough terrain, terrain that he'd had to make his escape over countless times, and the sound of distant screaming fills his ears. It's not him, he knows that much, and forces himself to break out of the nightmare.

But the effort that takes him causes him to falter, and in his haste, his ankles snag each other. He's falling before he knows it, and his hands are flinging out desperately to catch at something, anything, as long as it slows his fall―

Hands catch him before he can trip over his own two feet, and Harry dimly realizes that he's somehow managed to fall off the table. Tony's furrowing his brow again, but it seems less severe this time when he looks at Harry. He presses down on Harry's shoulders gently and follows him to the floor. Harry curls his legs under himself and tries to duck under the shelter of the table, but Tony's grip just tightens. It's not enough to cause him pain, but it's enough for Harry to freeze.

He can feel Tony's eyes on him, but he keeps his head bowed, refusing to look up. He hears a sigh, then Tony shakes his shoulder lightly. "Harry." The gentleness in that one word surprises him, so against his better instinct, he looks up.

Tony is staring at him with understanding clear in his eyes. It's not pity, or even sympathy, but rather a silent solidarity. It's only then that Harry realizes that out of everyone he knows on Midgard, Tony is probably the only one who _will_ understand. He's been through Afghanistan, built his identity in a cave with a hole in a chest, and then had his heart torn out by the man he trusted most. They both know what it's like to live through horrors incited by betrayal.

And that's what convinces Harry to tell Tony. With some effort, he musters up the courage to pull out of the comforting embrace. Tony watches him as he points a shaky finger at a champagne glass set down nearby and levitates the champagne in it. The crystal-clear orb of champagne wobbles slightly when he hears Tony's sharp intake of breath, but he keeps going and turns the glass into a toy car. The champagne settles all around the car in a shimmering veil like a blanket of protection, and with a sharp twist of his wrist, Harry turns it into glass. The car begins zooming around in the glass dome, racing around in tight circles that grow smaller until it's just spinning slowly on one wheel, suspended by nothing other than Harry's will.

His eyes flick to Tony, who's staring at the car with a sort of amazed disbelief dawning in his eyes. His expression is kept carefully blank, but Harry can read every emotion in his eyes.

Every moment he doesn't reply is like walking on knives while barefoot: agonizing and torturously slow. Harry shifts, uncomfortable with the silence.

The small movement seems to jolt Tony out of his daze, because he starts and turns to Harry. Curious eyes study him for a moment, then Tony breaks into a small grin and says, "Hey, can you make my coffee machine self-refilling? I desperately need more coffee, and Pepper forgot to bring my coffee beans over. I think I might cry if I have to go through all this," he flings a hand out to indicate the surrounding holograms, "without coffee."

Harry jerks his head up, wide-eyed in surprise. "What?" he stammers.

Tony actually laughs at him. "Come on, Harry, did you really think it's such a big deal now?" he asks, grinning widely. "There are aliens with mind-controlling powers now. If anything, you fit right in. We're a very odd bunch, you don't have to worry about sticking out."

He must still look uncertain, because Tony slips an arm around his shoulders in a comforting gesture. "Look," he says, "of all people, I have no right to tell you that you're abnormal or whatever you're thinking of. I'm literally surviving on a device that has the power to blow up half of New York. Compared to that, you seem pretty normal."

Harry scowls half-heartedly. "I do not."

"You so do," Tony counters cheerfully. "But seriously, can you use your magic to get me some coffee? I swear I'll love you forever."

Harry snorts and gets up, swiping at his eyes quickly. Tony pretends not to see it and Harry smiles gratefully. "I don't want your love, Stark," he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bar. "Give it to Pepper, I'm sure she'll love it."

"Oh, so it's Stark now. Game on, Potter," Tony says, and does something so absurd Harry can't help but laugh.

"What on earth are you even doing?"

Tony shrugs and comes to stand beside him, peering down at the coffee machine as Harry manipulates its inner workings to be self-refilling. When he twists everything back in place, the mug he placed under the dispenser starts getting filled with warm coffee.

Harry shuts the dispenser off and is about to hand the mug to Tony when he's swept up in a tight hug. His muffled protests go unheard as Tony takes the mug happily and makes his way back to the holograms.

"Hurry up, Harry, we have to finish this before Fury calls us in!" he yells.

Harry stares after him, then shakes his head. He fills another mug with coffee on a whim, this time for himself.

He's going to need it throughout the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we've gotten into the real action! Next chapter will be the scenes on the Helicarrier. Harry's going to yell at Thor some more because, you know, I highly doubt he really learnt his lesson in three days while surrounded by nice people who didn't actually know about how racist and prejudiced and misogynistic Asgard really is. I want to slap Odin sometimes when I think about it.
> 
> But anyway! I hope you liked Tony's reaction to Harry's magic! It's a bit mild, but other than getting Harry to agree to show him his magic, I don't think he'll have much of a problem with it in the immediate future. He has his priorities straight and an imminent invasion happens to be at the top of his list. (Along with helping Harry to calm down from his panic attack, which will only be worsened if Tony starts asking invasive questions.)
> 
> Also, I was taking inspiration from everywhere because that part was so difficult to write, so I hope it came out all right.


	5. subjugate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There isn't any response, but Harry can feel the exasperation rolling off the quinjet as Agent Romanoff lowers it to the ground. He knows Tony well enough to know that he's grinning as he hauls Loki into the quinjet, passing the scepter off to Rogers. Harry can't blame him―Romanoff isn't exactly on his Christmas invite list either.

**0 4**

**s u b j u g a t e**

"Whom the gods notice they destroy. Be small and you will escape the jealousy of the great." ― Philip K. Dick

 

Harry only makes it through three files―all of which are on Captain America, someone's a fan, it seems―when he finds something that doesn't make sense.

He picks the file holding information on the Tesseract out of the pile. All the details about how Loki appeared through a portal are there, including the videos S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to recover from their destroyed base. Harry frowns slightly as the video feed of the portal appearing plays, ending with Loki kneeling on the floor.

This makes no sense. He'd taught Loki how to skywalk a few centuries ago when he was a child. Since then, Loki's skill in moving across great distances only grew until it surpassed his own. Loki should not have had to rely on the portal the Tesseract created.

And that pose. Loki is the prince of Asgard. He has never knelt to anyone. And yet here he was, kneeling as he appeared. It's not even out of respect, it's completely subservient, as though Loki is scared of whoever it is. And it's not just his pose, it's his expression too. Panic hidden under arrogant bravado and pain shoved to the back of the mind, forever lurking there. Harry knows that expression intimately, has seen it so many times before in the mirror and around him. There is no way he'd miss it now.

But something _is_ missing, something that happened in the time between his fall and now. He's certain of that.

Harry glances at Tony, who's staring at the files on the Hulk. He took the news about magic well enough, but what about him knowing Loki? Harry told Tony that he was searching for his friend for a year now. How would he react if he knew that friend was Loki?

An empty mug is set down beside him and Tony pauses the video, which has been looping for a while now. He raises an eyebrow at Harry. "What is it this time?"

Harry's head snaps up to look at him. "What?"

Tony looks unimpressed. "You're brooding again, Potter. What is it?"

"I―" Harry stops, thoughts screeching to a halt because he has absolutely no idea how to break the news to him. How does he begin to tell Tony that he mentors a Norse god who they've been ordered to capture at all costs? Harry doesn't even know how Tony will react to this. He can already sense his bewilderment with the fact that magic exists, but what of Harry knowing Loki?

The sound of fingers being snapped in front of his face brings him out of his thoughts. Harry shoots Tony a half-hearted glare, to which he merely shrugs in response.

"You weren't listening," is his answer as he brings the mug to his lips. "Damn. I'm out of coffee."

"And I suppose that's an excuse for scaring me?" Harry inquires dryly, refilling the mug with a wave of his hand. Tony's developed something of a fascination with attempting to scare Harry after he figured out that he doesn't scare easily. Years of being on the run from surveillance devices specially tuned to track magical signatures has taught him how to track his surroundings, and now he can figure out who's standing next to him even while blindfolded.

Tony grins unrepentantly. "Yeah. But you never react to it!" He starts poking Harry. "Seriously, what are you? How is it possible for someone to develop such good reflexes?" Then he suddenly pauses and stares at Harry. "You're not a spy, right?"

Harry snorts and shakes his head. "Definitely not a spy," he says. "Have you seen Fury? Far too obvious for my taste."

Tony eyes him speculatively. "But seriously, what the hell is going on?" he asks. "You can tell me, you know, I won't freak out. Your magic is pretty cool."

Harry doesn't know whether he wants to laugh or cry. Of course Tony thinks it has something to do with magic.

In a way, he's right. But this is so much more than that. It's not just magic anymore, this is a threat to their world. Right now, Loki is the face of that threat, but Harry is certain there's more to it, and he doesn't know if he can trust Tony enough to tell him of his suspicions.

But he does know Loki. Out of all the Nine Realms, Midgard and Alfheim have always been Loki's favorites, Midgard for its boundless curiosity and Alfheim for its expertise in seiðr. He knows full well that Loki would never attempt to take over Midgard, especially not in the manner he's using now, which would leave death and destruction everywhere.

So the question is, will Tony believe him? Harry isn't foolish enough to believe that he will. The evidence is very damning. But when Harry looks at Tony, about to say something to change the topic, he stops when his eyes land on the arc reactor.

He wants to slap himself.

Of course. Tony already understands what misunderstandings and misconceptions can lead to. His entire life is a study in dual meanings, and the arc reactor itself is proof of his own mistakes. And honestly, now that Harry thinks about it, there is no reason why Tony wouldn't understand Loki.

"The friend I was looking for is Loki."

But maybe he shouldn't have been so blunt.

Coffee sloshes out of the mug slightly when Tony's hand jerks up and he turns to stare at Harry. He's subjected to an incredulous look. "You're serious." It's stated in disbelief.

Harry winces. "Yeah. Loki tried to commit suicide after he found out something his father was keeping from him."

Tony's eyes widen. "So what, he's trying to take over the world in some kind of revenge plot?"

Harry shakes his head immediately, frowning. "He'd never try to take over Midgard, he likes it too much for that," he says, then pulls Loki's file over. He glances up at Tony. "What do you know about him?"

Tony blinks, then shrugs. "Just the basics, really. He's an alien with superhuman capabilities, and he has a mind-controlling scepter to boot. Why?"

Harry sighs. "That's not enough," he says, and proceeds to give Tony a crash-course in Æsir abilities and Loki's backstory. It's short and succinct, but the details Harry provides are enough for Tony to look nauseous.

He sits there for a while when Harry is done. Harry keeps quiet, watching Tony sort through his thoughts. He hopes he can understand how Loki feels―they both did share the same fate, after all. Harry can't help but wonder how different everything would be if only they grew up in different environments.

He gives up on that thought as quickly as it came to him. Trying to imagine a different life never helped. No matter how much he wished for his parents to be alive back in his cupboard, it never came true. It just hurt him more. Doing so now will only produce the same results.

Then Tony lets out a strangled laugh.

"So his father called the Jötunns monsters all his life, and hid the fact that Loki is also a Jötunn," he summarizes. "And he didn't expect Loki to become mentally unstable?" His face twists in a grimace. "Wow."

Harry smirks. Tony's words just mirrored his thoughts exactly. He's still bitter about Odin's manipulations, because honestly? It's too bloody similar to what Dumbledore did. He feels cold just thinking about it.

Tony isn't done just yet. "Okay, so his childhood was terrible and his father is possibly on par with my old man, but what does this have to do with him taking over Earth? Because I really like living here and I don't intend on letting someone rule me."

Harry lets out a bark of laughter. "I don't want that either," he drawls. "But no. My point is, I know Loki, and this isn't something he'd do. Not of his own free will, anyway," he adds, remembering the scepter.

Tony catches on to that immediately, eyes sharpening. "So you're saying that he's being mind-controlled too? But his eyes aren't freaky." They'd been very shocked by the images S.H.I.E.L.D. caught of their mind-controlled agents, especially when they saw the glowing blue eyes.

Harry looks back at the video feeds. He shakes his head. "I don't think it's as simple as mind control," he says with a frown. "Look at him. He's shaky. He can't stand properly. He's leaning more on one leg than the other when he appears. Is that seriously someone you'd call a god right now?"

Tony switches his gaze from him to the video, scrutinizing Loki's movements. He still looks somewhat dubious when he turns back to Harry, but less so. "But how do you even torture a god?"

Harry shifts the data around and pulls up the video of Loki in the facility in answer, enlarging the screen to focus on Loki. He points to his face. "His face is unnaturally pale. There are dark circles under his eyes, almost as if he hasn't slept in days. He's sweating profusely." He shoots Tony a sidelong glance and sees his eyes widen. "All signs of heat exhaustion, and―"

"―extreme heat is deadly to Jötunns," Tony finishes. He breathes out sharply. "Okay. I can work with that. But don't expect me to help him." Then he raises an eyebrow at Harry. "You do realize that Fury will be a lot harder to convince, right?"

Harry chuckles. "I've handled worse," is his only reply. He quickly grows serious again when his eyes drift back to Loki's file. "Point is, Loki is faking something. I want to know what." He shifts his eyes to Tony. "Think you can handle him with whoever S.H.I.E.L.D. sends?"

Tony huffs. "You doubt my capability? I'm offended."

Harry laughs and is about to say something else when JARVIS speaks up.

"Sir, Agent Coulson is on the line."

Tony answers his phone distractedly. "Hi, Agent. Thought you were on a flight?"

Coulson sounds almost amused when he says, "It wasn't that long of a flight, Mr. Stark. But we've got a hit. Seventy-nine percent match in Stuttgart, Germany. 28 Königstraße. We need you and Mr. Potter to head over there right now."

Harry looks up sharply at that.

Tony jerks his head towards the balcony outside and signals JARVIS to send the suit out. "We're leaving right now. Anything else?"

"You might want to hurry, our people are already on their way there. And Mr. Stark? Agent Romanoff will be there, so I want you on your best behavior."

Tony scoffs and drawls, "You're talking to the wrong person, Agent. I'm already on my best behavior."

The only response he receives is silence. Harry has to hide a laugh when Tony rolls his eyes and leaves the phone on the table. "JARVIS, reroute any calls from Pepper to the suit. Anyone else can leave a message," he orders, then looks at Harry. "You got a way to get to Germany? Please say yes, I'll be very disappointed if magic doesn't have some sort of transportation."

Harry laughs and pulls his duffel bag towards him, taking out his Invisibility Cloak.

Tony makes a questioning noise, and Harry looks at him to find him staring at the Cloak with an expression of bewilderment. "How are you going to use a piece of cloth to get you to Germany?" he asks. "Is it a Cloak of Teleportation? Teleportation Cloak? What the hell is that thing?"

Harry just grins. "It's a cloak, Tony," he ribs, then brings up an image of 28 Königstraße, ignoring Tony's spluttering. "And no, I'm not using it to get me to Germany either. I have simpler ways of doing that than enchanting a cloak."

After he's memorized every inch of the place, he looks at Tony, who's been staring in confusion for the past minute. "I'd offer to bring you with me," he says apologetically, "but magic and technology don't really mix."

Tony catches on immediately. "I think I'll stick to my suit, thanks," he says, and smiles at Harry. "But you have to show me how you're going to travel there."

"Deal." With that, Harry apparates, grinning at Tony's comically widened eyes.

He reappears in the middle of chaos. There's screaming everywhere and the people are congregating right in front of the place Loki is supposed to be in. Everything is in complete disarray, and Harry has to concentrate on not bumping into anyone for fear of worsening their panic.

Then he sees the blast of energy that hits a police car and sends it skidding across the road towards him. His hand shoots out and he casts a few quick spells to keep it from flipping over itself, bringing it to a gentle halt nearby. Glancing around for Loki, he finds him emerging from behind a bus and raising his hands to cast a few illusions. Harry quickly pulls his Invisibility Cloak over himself and makes his way over, standing at a corner where he can see everything.

Just as he'd predicted, multiple illusions of Loki appear, one at each corner, forcing the crowd to scramble back into a small area.

"Kneel before me." Loki's voice carries the quiet arrogance of a prince he's always had, but the words are not something Harry ever expected to hear from him.

When the crowd doesn't obey, Loki slams the butt of his scepter on the ground, causing blue to flare out from the gems at the top of each scepter. "I said, kneel!"

The way he roars the last word is enough to quieten the crowd and have them kneeling before him. Loki smiles and spreads his arms, looking incredibly self-satisfied.

Harry watches on quietly, noting that no one seems to be injured. There's that, at least.

"Is this not simpler?" Loki starts to walk, every step punctuating a sentence. "Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation."

He lowers his scepter and continues walking. Harry's eyes flick to the crowd and sees many of their expressions turning fearful.

"The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power," one of the illusions flickers, "for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

Harry frowns and tilts his head. That sounded eerily similar to what Loki said in the base: Freedom is life's great lie. It's almost as if he had been forced to memorize that idea. Merlin knows he's never had that kind of drastic thinking.

But he has always been adept at fooling other people into thinking he had the same mindset as them. Harry's eyes widen in realization when he goes through his memories to find instances where Loki has done the same thing and can only come up with one answer: Loki is stalling.

It does make sense, in a way. Loki has never liked battle, citing the loss of innocent lives as a reason. In fact, the attack on Jötunheim stood out because it wasn't something Loki would do when in the right state of mind. It does not make it any more forgivable, but Harry can understand why he did it. Which means that if Loki truly wanted to take over Midgard, he would have done it with a few smooth lies and pretty smiles, not by leading an invasion.

So he continues hiding. If he is right, then Loki is doing all this so that less lives will be lost. If Harry intervenes, Loki will be forced to attack him. And while the fight will be drastic enough, the backlash from the collision of magic and seiðr―the two have never mixed well―will be able to cause very severe injuries.

He returns his attention to Loki when an old man gets to his feet. His movements are so slowed by age that Loki doesn't notice until he stands up fully. Harry feels a flicker of respect when the old man lifts his chin proudly and says, "Not to men like you."

Loki scoffs and bares his teeth in a smile. "There are no men like me."

The old man is unperturbed. "There are always men like you."

Damn. Harry winces when Loki loses his smile. He raises his scepter slowly and points it at the old man. It is only Harry's previous epiphany that prevents him from attacking and makes him glance around for a timely intervention instead.

He has a sneaking suspicion that it's S.H.I.E.L.D., and smiles when he sees a quinjet fast approaching.

"Look to your elder, people," Loki says, and Harry returns his eyes to him to see a dark expression on his face. "Let him be an example."

His eyes flicker upwards before he fires, and Harry realizes why when someone drops down from the sky in time to deflect the blast. His eyebrows shoot up past his fringe when he looks up and sees a quinjet hovering above.

So S.H.I.E.L.D. got here on time. And they have Captain America too. He doesn't know why he's so surprised.

There are a few screams as the red, white, and blue figure rises―and for a war icon who should know better, the man is a walking target. Seriously, who was put in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s costume design?―but they quickly fall silent and even get to their feet to get a better view of the proceedings.

"You know," Rogers starts as he steps down and walks towards Loki, "the last time I was in Germany, and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing."

Harry snorts and earns a terrified look from the people standing near him. He pays them no mind and just grins.

Who knew Captain America has a gift for the understatement?

Loki isn't nearly as amused. "The soldier," he growls, and uses his scepter to stand. "The man out of time."

Harry does not expect Rogers to quip, "I'm not the one who's out of time."

There's a distorted sound as the bottom of the quinjet opens and lets a huge speaker drop down. A woman―Agent Romanoff, Harry thinks―says, her voice magnified, "Loki, drop the weapon and stand down."

Loki aims and fires at the quinjet before she can finish speaking, and it's forced to swerve to avoid it. Captain America uses this distraction to throw his shield at Loki and thus start a fight which Harry quickly erects a few wards around them to shield the civilians―

―who were now fleeing, so Harry returns his attention to the fight. He's just in time to see Loki press the extremely sharp end of his scepter against Rogers' neck―and that's strange, because normally Loki doesn't hesitate to injure his opponents so that they can't come after him again.

"Kneel," Loki snarls.

Rogers pushes the scepter away and jumps up to kick Loki in the face. "Not today!"

Harry keeps one eye on them even as he sends a few charms after the civilians to herd them away from the fight. What is it with humans and their endless curiosity? There are people taking videos of this, honestly. He has to send a few more obvious spells at them to get them all to leave.

The only good thing about all this is that Loki isn't using any seiðr at all, which only reinforces his suspicion that Loki is trying to prevent any casualties. But even then, he is reluctant to step in and attack Loki. He still doesn't know if Loki is holding back or if he is actually unable to use his seiðr because he was tortured, and he doesn't intend to find out now.

Then Rogers gets thrown to the ground with a grunt.

Harry looks up, sharp and alert. He hadn't been expecting that, though he supposes that he should have. Loki already knows who Rogers is, it seems, so Harry readies himself to cast a few wards around Rogers. The serum isn't enough to outclass a god.

But before any one of them can move, the quinjet starts blasting a very loud rock song Harry swears he's heard before. Everyone freezes, and his eyes dart up only to see Iron Man swooping in not a second later.

Harry starts to laugh. He doesn't even have to worry about anyone hearing him, what with the music being loud enough to cover it. He's still laughing hysterically when Tony shoots Loki back with a repulsor blast and drops to the ground in his famous three-point landing stance, pulling out every visible bit of weaponry on his suit as he stands.

"Make your move, Reindeer Games," Tony deadpans.

Loki eyes the weaponry with slight apprehension and lifts his hands in surrender, letting the armor fade away. Tony follows suit and the weaponry retracts.

"Good move."

Rogers waits for all the weapons to retract before saying, "Mr. Stark."

Tony tilts his head. "Captain." He raises his gaze to the quinjet. "Natashlie, you wanna land so we can bring him in?"

There isn't any response, but Harry can feel the exasperation rolling off the quinjet as Agent Romanoff lowers it to the ground. He knows Tony well enough to know that he's grinning as he hauls Loki into the quinjet, passing the scepter off to Rogers. Harry can't blame him―Romanoff isn't exactly on his Christmas invite list either.

Then the quinjet lifts off and Harry has to scramble to get in before he gets shut out and left in Germany. He scowls at the back of Romanoff's head despite knowing full well that any sensors are unable to identify him when he's using his Invisibility Cloak.

Definitely not on the Christmas list.

* * *

Harry leans against the wall and watches Loki. Tony and Rogers are busy whispering in a corner, and after making sure Tony knew he's on board the quinjet, he leaves them alone. He already eavesdropped on the conversation between Romanoff and Fury. He doesn't want to listen to another.

But Loki hasn't done anything. He's just sitting there, docile in a manner that can only mean he's plotting something. Or maybe he already has, and that's why he's being so obedient. Harry doesn't know or care which one it is. If it's Loki, there's going to be a scheme either way, so he simply resolves to tell Fury and leaves it at that.

Then Loki's gaze sweeps over the corner he's standing in and makes him freeze.

Blue. Loki's eyes are blue. Which shouldn't be possible, because Harry knows full well that they're supposed to be green.

Torture wasn't enough for whoever sent him, it seems. Loki's being mind-controlled as well. Harry tenses, watching Loki more carefully now. There is no way to know how deep the control runs. But Loki's will is a force of nature to be reckoned with in its own right, and the fact that someone managed to get into Loki's mind means the torture Loki went through was more severe than Harry thought.

Which is incredibly dangerous, because when Loki starts being cornered―like he is now―he lashes out. And Harry would prefer to avoid that. The last time it happened, not everyone came out alive.

A crack of lightning, jagged and broken, cuts across both the sky and his thoughts, and there's an ominous rumble of thunder overhead that shakes the quinjet.

Harry raises his eyebrows. Thor's here. How wonderful.

Then he sees the abject terror that crosses Loki's face for an instant before being masked. There's still some worry left behind, and Harry frowns at the thought of even the god of lies not being able to hide his fright. He's not unaware of the fact that Loki's expression was much like his own whenever Vernon or Dudley approached him in the past, and tilts his head, eyes narrowing at Loki.

Surely Thor isn't what causes that reaction?

Rogers' derisive words bring him out of his thoughts. "What's the matter? Scared of a little lightning?"

Loki takes a while to choose his words. "I'm not overly fond of what follows." His eyes wander back up to the glass roof and misses Tony and Rogers exchanging a disbelieving look.

That disbelief is quickly lost when the quinjet jolts suddenly. It continues shaking from side to side, enough for Rogers to grab onto the side and Tony to put on his helmet. Harry is too busy making sure Loki doesn't fall off―his hands are tied, for Merlin's sake―to notice Tony opening the ramp.

But Rogers does. "What are you doing?"

Harry jerks his head up to see Thor land on the ramp and Tony bring up a hand to blast him back. Thor just slams Mjølnir into his chest and sends him flying back. Harry barely manages to catch his landing with a Cushioning charm and keep himself from punching Thor.

Though his resolve is shattered when he sees him grab Loki, the brother he just mourned, by the throat and jump off the quinjet with him. Harry rushes quickly after Thor, falling from the sky after the brothers. He pinpoints where they're going to land and apparates there, hiding himself among the trees just in time to see Thor slam Loki down at the edge of the cliff. Loki cries out in pain.

Harry starts forward, but stops when a beak noses under his palm. He glances down to find Huginn and Muninn there and smiles briefly down at them. "Hello," he whispers, turning back to the brothers.

What the hell is Thor thinking? The last time he saw his brother was when they were hanging off the Bifröst, and he's going to slam his brother down on hard ground without checking if he's injured? Harry's going to have words with Thor after he removes his Cloak, and he doesn't much care if it's in private or for everyone to see.

Thor grips Mjølnir tightly and glares down at Loki. "Where's the Tesseract?"

Yeah, he's going to suffer.

Loki manages a weak chuckle and oh, is Harry going to kill Thor for that. "Ah, I missed you too," he says, voice breathy with pain.

Thor either doesn't hear it or just ignores it entirely. "Do I look to be in a gaming mood?" he growls.

Loki leans up slowly, putting a hand on the ground. "You should thank me. With the Bifröst gone, how much dark energy did the All-Father have to muster to conjure you here, your precious Earth?"

Thor sets down Mjølnir, causing the mountain to quake, and grips Loki's armor, raising him up. Terror crosses Loki's face for an instant and he lets out a choked noise, but he quickly masks it.

"I thought you dead," Thor is saying now.

Harry has to hold back a snort. Sure, and the first thing he asks his brother is where the Tesseract is.

Loki is clearly thinking the same thing as him. "Did you mourn?"

Thor looks saddened. "We all did. Our father―"

Loki holds up a finger. "Your father."

Indignation flashes across Thor's eyes and he drops Loki. Harry's eyes sharpen when Loki walks around Thor, holding one hand to his back stiffly. Being slammed down shouldn't have caused that amount of pain, not unless he was already injured to begin with. The fight with Rogers doesn't count, Loki was barely ruffled by that.

"He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?"

"We were raised together, we played together, we fought together." Thor follows him, angered. "Do you remember none of that?"

Loki turns and looks up at him from the bottom of the cliff, in Thor's shadow. "I remember a shadow. Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I was and should be king!" he ends with a sneer.

"So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights," Thor snaps and okay, no, Harry is not going to let that go, not when a shadow crosses Loki's face when Thor dismisses his traumas so easily.

"I never took you for a fool, Thor," he finds himself saying as he steps out from behind the rock, and grimaces when he registers his words.

Yeah okay, that was a lie. A big one.

Thor and Loki whirl around to look at him. Both their eyes widen, Thor's in hope and Loki's in shock. Harry ignores whatever Thor's about to say in favor of his careless words. He raises an eyebrow. "If you truly believe that what Loki is going through is imagined, then I fear you have not learned your lesson yet."

Anger flashes through Thor's gaze. "It is imagined!" he protests. "Loki is treated as well as myself. It is only due to his trickery that some do not like or trust him. That is his fault, not any of ours."

Loki slams a hand against Thor's chest and pushes him away before Harry can answer that, moving back up the cliff. He stops at the edge of the cliff, breathing hard and keeping his eyes from where Harry stands.

Thor doesn't. He marches up to Harry. "Seiðmaðr, you must tell my brother to cease this foolishness! There is no reason for him to be so contrary, Father and Mother love him as their own―"

"He is not my father!" Loki yells, turning on Thor. "Stop lying to me!"

The turmoil of emotions in Loki's voice makes Harry's glare even sharper. "I would suggest you listen to your brother on this matter, Thor. You're not exactly inspiring any affection for you in him right now." Loki mutters an agreement.

Thor draws himself up to his full height, scowling. "No, I shall not! Loki belongs on Asgard, and I need the Tesseract to bring him back! He―"

"I don't have it."

A snarl rips out of Thor's throat as he spins around to face Loki. Mjølnir flies into his hand and he raises it behind him, ready to hit Loki with it. Harry apparates between the two of them, raising his hands to conjure a shield.

Loki continues from behind him, "You need the Cube to bring me home. But I've sent it off, I know not where."

Thor points Mjølnir at him, furious and uncaring of the golden shield that shimmers into place in front of him. "You listen well, brother. I'll―"

Tony slams into Thor and sends them flying off the cliff, cutting off whatever Thor wanted to say. Harry grins, and his smile only grows when Loki quips, "I'm listening."

He really needs to introduce the two of them. He has a feeling that they'll get along really well.

When he turns back to Loki, he's met with a searching stare. "Are you here to berate me for stealing the Tesseract as well?" The words are spoken in a drawl, but Loki's eyes are narrowed, cautious.

Harry smiles lightly. "Why would I scold a boot for stepping on an ant?" he counters.

Hope flares in Loki's eyes, small and quickly squashed by suspicion. "What do you mean by that?"

Harry shakes his head. "Now is not the time or place to have this discussion." He pauses and slants a look at Loki. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer to keep your brother from killing one of the few mortals I actually like."

Loki looks surprised. "You would trust me to remain here?"

"The Loki I know wouldn't hesitate to stay and watch his brother make a fool of himself," Harry replies, pleasant and amused. Loki's eyes widens then narrows again. Harry simply smiles and apparates to where Tony and Thor crash-landed to.

The clearing is dark enough for them not to see him appearing if they aren't looking, so they don't notice him standing to the side. Harry doesn't draw their attention his way either. He just leans against a tree and watches.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," Thor is warning, and Harry resists the urge to snort. For someone who claims to have learnt his lesson already, his arrogance is still on full display.

Time to watch Tony take him down a peg or two.

Tony doesn't disappoint. "Uh, Shakespeare in the Park?" He waves a hand at Thor. "Doth Mother know you weareth her drapes?"

Harry snickers. God, that's better than anything Harry could have asked for.

Thor scowls and says, voice tight with anger, "This is beyond you, metal man. Loki will face Asgardian justice."

Tony's expression sharpened. "He gives up the Cube, he's all yours. Until then," his faceplate slams down, "stay out of the way." As he turns, he mutters, "Tourist."

It's low enough for a normal human to miss it, but Thor is no normal human. His temper snaps and he hurls Mjølnir at Tony, and it's only Harry's reflexes that save Tony from being hit by a hammer for the second time in an hour.

A blast of magic whips through the air, slamming into Mjølnir and throwing it off-course. It's enough to miss Tony completely, who wheels around and stares down at the hammer. His head turns to where Harry stands, giving him a slight nod, before facing Thor again.

"Did you just try to hit me with your magic hammer again?" Tony demands. "Not cool, Point Break, I don't have insurance for a bloody hammer."

But Thor ignores him completely, staring down at Mjølnir in obvious shock and bewilderment. "I missed," he murmurs, disbelieving. He's so lost in thought he doesn't even notice Harry standing there.

Tony notices that too. "Yeah, I think that's pretty obvious."

Thor glares at him, ire raised. Harry has to fight down the urge to smack Tony upside the head for that comment, because seriously, Mjølnir did not want to be moved. He doesn't know if he can do that a second time.

Rogers chooses that exact moment to jog into the clearing, shield raised before him. He stops when he sees Tony and Thor standing across from each other. "I thought you wanted to attack," he blurts out. "Did I miss something or did you finally understand what diplomacy is?"

Tony scoffs and walks over, slapping Rogers on the shoulder. "Rogers, of course I know what diplomacy is. How else do you think I deal with all the bootlickers and reporters I have to face every day?" He leans in conspiratorially. "I'll give you a hint: it wasn't by dancing around in the American flag."

Harry snorts. Rogers scowls at Tony, hackles raised. "It was for a good cause, Stark," he argues.

Tony pats him on the shoulder and turns back to Thor. "Hey, where did you get that hammer from anyway? I've got a few people in my Board whose smug faces could use a little bashing."

Thor eyes him warily. "I am uncertain of what you mean, metal man. Mjølnir is a mighty weapon, not for 'bashing'."

Tony flips his faceplate up and peers at him. "You sure about that, buddy? I'm pretty sure you bash people with hammers. It's not like you can tap them lightly on the head."

Thor just stares at him, forcing Harry to have to put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing loudly.

When Thor shakes his head and turns to talk to Roger, Harry eyes them for a while more before deciding that the situation is under control and apparating back to the cliff. Loki jumps a little, but settles quickly. "I don't suppose now is the time to have our little chat either," he says idly.

"You would be right," Harry agrees. He peers down at the clearing, where the trio―apparently, they bonded while getting back up the cliff―are getting back up the cliff. "Maybe later. Your brother is coming to bring you to the Midgardian's base of operations."

Loki scoffs, but otherwise remains silent, staring down at the clearing. Harry takes advantage of his distraction and casts a disillusionment charm over himself. Loki doesn't notice.

But Thor does. When they come to collect Loki, he stares around them, brow furrowed. "Where did Seiðmaðr Haraldr go?"

Rogers stares, alarmed, when Loki jerks his head around to look too. "I wasn't aware there was anyone else around," he says carefully.

Tony just keeps his gaze from where Harry is standing. "Yeah, whatever. If this guy isn't trying to take over the universe, then I've got better things to do than track him down," he dismisses. "Come on, Rogers, Fury's going to blow his top if we don't report back soon."

The rest look uncertain, but when Tony only insists on his way, they agree and head back to the quinjet, leaving Harry alone on the cliff with two ravens who know all of Asgard's secrets.

Perfect for what he's planning. He sits down on the cliff, letting Huginn and Muninn settle on his knees.

"Show me."

They'll know what he means. They always do.

He enters a whirlpool of memories that lasts not two minutes but has him shaking with barely suppressed fury. With a snarl, he rises to his feet, pulling out his broom. He swings his leg over it and races up into the air, letting the cold air bite at his cheeks and cool him down. Following the tracker he put on the quinjet, Harry speeds off, tailing them closely.

It's really very considerate of him. If he sees Thor right now, he doesn't think he can control himself, and the entire quinjet might end up dropping from the sky because of his magic. He's doing them all a favor.

But that doesn't mean he'll hold back when he next sees Thor. Quite the opposite, actually. Harry lets a feral smile spread across his face and he presses on, hair whipping into his face.

This is going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Next chapter we get to find out if Harry really does punch Thor! That should be fun.
> 
> Any guesses as to what Huginn and Muninn showed Harry?
> 
> Also, it's one-thirty am where I am right now and I just squeezed out nearly half this chapter so just tell me if there's anything weird about this, thanks. (Just edited this I'm mildly horrified.)


	6. performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romanoff and Rogers are already seated there. Thor and Banner stand at opposite ends of the table, on which a video feed of Loki's cell plays. Agents are scattered across the deck below them, all seated and staring at a monitor, so when Tony looks at him, he drops the spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've edited the previous chapter. Please go read it, I changed a few things.
> 
> Merry Christmas! Also, I kind of need to tell you guys that starting next year, I'll probably only be able to upload chapters every two weeks. School is starting and I need to focus and meet expectations or I won't be allowed to write anymore.
> 
> God bless you all. (If you believe. If you don't, I hope this year—and the next—has been good to you too.)

**0 5**

**p e r f o r m a n c e**

"Just because something isn't a lie does not mean that it isn't deceptive. A liar knows that he is a liar, but one who speaks mere portions of truth in order to deceive is a craftsman of destruction." — Criss Jami

  
When the quinjet lands on the deck, Harry hovering behind it, Tony is the first one out.

"I need to get out of this thing. You got anywhere I can put it, Natashlie?"

Romanoff raises an eyebrow at him when she emerges. "Take the door over there, then go down. There should be a tech room there and," she holds up a hand, "and before you ask, go straight to the briefing room after that. Don't even try, Stark."

Tony flips up his faceplate and gives her a mock frown. "You don't trust me?"

"Only as much as you trust me," she returns.

"Touché." Tony inclines his head and walks away. Harry swoops down to join him and swings off his broom, shrinking it and stuffing it back in his pocket.

Tony's stride doesn't falter, but he hisses, "Are you seriously holding a broom?"

Harry snorts, raising a silencing ward around them. "You can talk now, I put up a silencing charm," he says dryly. "But yes, that was a broom."

"You're carrying a broom. Seriously, what are you, a witch?" Harry's silence makes him snicker. "You're kidding."

"I wish," Harry sighs. "I'm a wizard, actually, but it's all just a matter of gender."

"There are more of you?"

Harry falters and looks away, swallowing hard. "Not anymore," he whispers.

Tony's curiosity is palpable, but when Harry doesn't elaborate, he gets the hint. "So what's the deal with no one being able to see you anyway? The HUD caught you perfectly well. Was it that Cloak? Wait no, I didn't see you in Germany, and that would have been your Cloak. What are you even using?"

Harry feels his lips curve up in a grin. "Just a little spell, don't worry about it." He slips in before Tony when he opens the door, and the two of them continue walking down the corridor. "You saw me because you're using technology. That spell fools people, not sensors. That's why no one else saw me."

"Doesn't sound very useful."

"Yeah, well, didn't want my Cloak to go flying off in-flight."

Tony snorts. "I'd pay good money to see that happen."

"Don't feel like testing my luck, thanks," Harry shoots back as they arrive at the tech room.

Tony pulls out his phone and taps out a combination, stepping out of the armor as he does so. "JARVIS, send it in," he orders and walks away, leaving the suit to enter the storage cell on its own. Then he stops, blinking, and stares somewhere to the right of where Harry stands. "You're going to surprise them when we meet again."

Harry grins, though no one can see it. "Of course. Did you expect anything else?"

Tony snorts and continues walking. Harry falls into step beside him. "Not really. My car radio is still stuck on one station, you know."

"Don't give me that crap, Stark, you can easily undo what I did." All he gets in answer is a slanted grin and a wink, and they enter the briefing room.

It's a good thing that Harry had the flight here to compartmentalize his anger at Thor, because the helicarrier probably wouldn't survive otherwise.

Romanoff and Rogers are already seated there. Thor and Banner stand at opposite ends of the table, on which a video feed of Loki's cell plays. Agents are scattered across the deck below them, all seated and staring at a monitor, so when Tony looks at him, he drops the spell.

At least a few dozen weapons are immediately aimed at him, everyone following Romanoff's lead. Even Rogers' raised his shield, though what he thinks he can do with that thing on board an aircraft without damaging the systems is beyond Harry.

Trigger-happy idiots, the lot of them.

Tony loops an arm around Harry and tugs him towards the table. "Come on, sit, they don't bite."

Harry raises an eyebrow at him as he slides into a seat. "I beg to differ."

Tony flicks his gaze away to scan the room, widening his eyes in an expression of mock surprise. "Didn't see that coming. I'm hurt."

Harry snorts.

"Stark," Romanoff says, her too-calm expression the only sign of her irritation. "Who is he?"

Tony's surprise this time isn't faked. "Fury didn't tell you?"

"Fury doesn't tell me everything. Spill—"

"Potter?" the agent beside the table says incredulously. "The intel we have didn't say you could turn invisible."

Harry looks up and smiles. "S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have much intel on me, Commander Hill." He pauses. "Or would you prefer Deputy Director?"

She blinks. Even Tony stares at him, incredulous.

"What," Rogers says flatly. "Who are you, and how did you know that?"

Harry turns to face him. "Harry Potter. Fury called me in to help because I know the Asgardians. Especially Loki," he adds as an afterthought. "He asked me to help."

Everyone's looking at Thor now, but at least they're setting down their weapons.

"'Tis true. Seiðmaðr Haraldr is a trusted advisor of Asgard," Thor confirms. He glances once at Harry then away, no doubt recalling their conversation by the cliff. "Indeed, if my father is in need of advice, he will ask Haraldr first."

Tony laughs. "Trust you to play advisor to some alien god, Harry."

Harry sinks down in his chair. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it.

Sure enough, Thor grins, forgetting his wariness. "The All-Father trusts Haraldr the most! He has never led Asgard wrong, and he has served Asgard since before my father's time. It is most impressive."

"Hold on, before your father's time?" Tony interrupts with no small amount of unholy glee. Harry drops his head onto his hands. "Aren't you alien gods all millennia old?"

"We do live to be millennia old, yes. Why do you ask?"

Rogers makes a small sound of surprise.

Harry raises his head. "For the love of Asgard, Thor," he grumbles. "Tony does not need more blackmail material on me."

Thor tilts his head at him, mischief sparking in his eyes. "Whatever do you mean, Seiðmaðr?" he says innocently. "I am merely telling the Man of Iron more about his friend."

"Yeah, Harry," Tony chimes in, smirking. "Why, you have some dirty secrets you don't want us to know about?"

"Not if you don't want them to find out about the macaroni incident," Harry counters, a sickly-sweet smile curling his lips.

He is mildly gratified to see Tony backing down immediately.

"Cheat."

"Pot, kettle." Harry would've said more, but Banner clears his throat and points at the video, where Fury has just entered.

Everyone shuts up, letting his voice ring out clearly in the briefing room. "In case it's unclear. If you try to escape, if you so much as scratch that glass," he says, and then all Harry can hear is gusting wind. His eyes flick to Loki and he smirks a little when he shows no sign of fear, merely curiosity.

Fury continues speaking then. "Thirty thousand feet straight down in a steel trap. You get how this works?" There's a pause, and Fury's voice turns ironic. "Ant, boot."

But Loki laughs in his face, a blasé sound. "It's an impressive cage," he says in that same amused tone. "Not built, I think, for me."

"Built for something a lot stronger than you." Fury doesn't sound as amused.

"Oh, I've heard." Harry stiffens at that knowing tone. His worry only grows as Loki turns to face the camera. It's an act, he wants to scream. Loki's a performer putting on a one-man play. As spectacular as it is, there's something missing, something that hasn't been added to the equation yet, but he can't figure out what it is.

"A mindless beast makes play he's still a man," Loki is saying, and Harry forces himself to concentrate. He frowns at the double meaning in those words. He's not just referring to Banner with that sentence. "How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?"

Fury's voice is harsh when he speaks. "How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill because it's fun." He lets that sink in. "You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did."

The whole room has to strain to hear what Loki says next. "Ooh. It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power. Unlimited power," he taunts, and turns to the camera again. Another act. A warning. "A warm light for all mankind to share," he says softly, "and then to be reminded what real power is."

Harry files that away to be analyzed later. He concentrates and watches the way Loki moves and acts. It's fluid, natural, but there's a stiffness that speaks of pain hidden in the languid movements. It's something anyone not familiar with Loki would miss, but Harry doesn't. He knows every trick, every illusion Loki might employ, and this is a mere shadow of the best he's seen Loki do. It's nothing and everything all at once, because it confirms his suspicions that this isn't Loki.

It's not truly him, anyway.

Tension builds in the short silence before Fury says, sarcasm dripping from his tone, "Well, let me know if 'real power' wants a magazine or something."

Someone closes the feed on the monitor Harry is watching, and he turns his attention to the table where everyone is gathered. They're all staring at the table when Banner says darkly, "He really grows on you, doesn't he?"

His hands are twitching nervously, as if he doesn't know what to do with himself, and Harry notes that he's standing as far away as he can get from anyone else in the room. He's scared, both of himself and what he can do. That never bodes well. Harry resolves to speak to him about it.

But later. There is no time now.

"Like a damn fungus," Tony quips.

Rogers takes charge immediately. "Loki's going to drag this out. So, Thor, what's his play?"

Thor turns back to the table. "He has an army called the Chitauri," he says carefully. "They're not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth." His expression darkens. "In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

"An army." Rogers' voice is flat. "From outer space."

Harry snickers half-heartedly at his disbelief, but his expression is grave as he puzzles through the layered meanings in what Loki said.

Banner concentrates on another part of Thor's statement entirely. "So he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for."

Thor looks at him in alarm. "Selvig?"

Banner must think that Thor is wondering who he is, because he quickly clarifies, "He's an astrophysicist."

But Thor just says gravely, "He's a friend."

Romanoff cuts in from the other end of the table, "Loki has him under some kind of spell." She casts a glance to a monitor across the room. Harry follows her gaze and finds a report on Agent Barton on the screen. "Along with one of ours."

Tony is silent. Harry looks around for him and finds him near the monitors, adjusting some things as he slaps a button-sized hacking implant under them.

Can't say he didn't expect it.

Ever the strategist, Rogers focuses on one thing. "I want to know why Loki let us take him. He's not leading an army from here."

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki," Banner immediately disagrees. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You can smell crazy on him."

Harry frowns, but Thor beats him to it.

"Have care how you speak," he snaps, annoyed. "Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he's my brother."

Romanoff deadpans, "He killed eighty people in two days."

Thor averts his gaze, thrown off-guard. "He's adopted," he mutters.

Harry cuts in, ignoring Thor's statement. "Whether or not Loki is adopted is of no consequence now," he says, and pulls up a close-up of Loki's eyes. He glances at Hill. "He has green eyes. Your agents are not the only ones being controlled."

Rogers leans forward. "But they're not fully blue. I thought the scepter gave you those glowing blue eyes."

"Mind control can be fought. Torture breaks your will. It's not just mind control Loki is under."

Those three simple sentences have Romanoff pressing back into her chair. Her eyes rise to meet his in understanding. But she still asks, "Do you have any proof?"

Harry gives her a sharp smile. "Loki is a wordsmith. Every word he says when he's being watched has layer upon layer of meaning on them." He lets that sink in. "'A mindless beast'. It probably refers to Doctor Banner as well, but the first thing I thought of? It's that Loki is a part of a race who Asgard has been taught to believe are monsters."

Thor looks uncomfortable, and Harry's smile turns serrated. "And if you watched the footage from the destroyed base, you'll find that he compared himself to a boot and Earth to an ant. Very interesting word choice there, comparing himself to an object with no agency." Harry spreads his hands and raises his eyebrows. "Do you need any more examples, or are you sufficiently convinced?"

There is a clearing of the throat, and Thor adds, averting his eyes, "I would advise that you listen to Haraldr. Loki has never been able to hide anything from him."

Harry snorts. "I taught him, Thor. I know exactly what he is capable of." He gestures at the table. "He could have teleported out of that cell by now if he had full control of his seiðr."

There is complete silence for a long moment before Tony sighs. "I hate magic."

Rogers nods emphatically. "Amen to that."

Thor laughs. "My brother has always been fond of such trickery. I suggest you just ignore it. It is of no consequence."

Tony winces. "Damn."

Harry's anger surges up again. He stands abruptly and glares at Thor, and when he speaks, his voice is cold, cold as frost, making Romanoff reach for her weapon again. "And I would suggest that you remember just who you are speaking to, Odinson. Your brother's little 'tricks' have saved your life many a time. You would be wise to remember that."

But Thor frowns, oblivious of the rising tension and the way everyon else is inching away from them. "I was the one who fought through all those warriors. Loki's tricks merely stop me from claiming complete victory over our enemies."

"Victory claimed through slaughter." Harry's eyes turn even colder. "A hundred and forty-five warriors lie dead on Jötunheim because of you, all killed within the span of ten minutes. And that was just what I heard last. What right have you to say that Loki is adopted because he killed eighty in two days? I would think that he's finally fitting in with your family."

"It was to punish them for violating the treaty!" Thor argues. "They disrupted my coronation to steal back the Casket―"

"Which would have saved their lives! When Odin took the Casket from Jötunheim, he condemned them to a slow death! Can you blame them for trying to survive?"

Thor opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again.

No one speaks for a while. Harry breathes in deeply and falls back onto his seat. He taps his fingers on the table, movements jerky and stiff, but it slows when Thor clears his throat and says softly, “I did not know. I thought the Casket was merely a relic.”

Harry glances up, surprised at the confession. Admitting to a wrong assumption was not something Thor would have done before. “You didn't? I thought Odin told you.” When Thor shakes his head, Harry winces. “God, I thought he did. I'm sorry.”

Thor shrugs. “He had no need to. I was only supposed to know what he told me to know as crown prince.”

Harry looks up sharply at that. It's something he remembers having said to Hermione once, that he only knew what the Ministry wanted him to know as the Boy-Who-Lived and Savior of the Wizarding world. He wants to slap himself when he realizes the amount of pressure Thor’s had to live under for a millennium. The expectation that he grow up to be the best warrior in Asgard, the tight confines of his birthright, the manipulations of Odin―Thor has had to live with all of that and more for his entire life.

God, he's been oblivious to the both of them for too long.

And the thing is, he knows what it's like to be in both their shoes. He's been compared to the golden child for sixteen years, been the troublemaking child while Dudley could do no wrong. But he also knows what it's like to be in the spotlight, to be watched by the entire world for one tiny slip up so they could tear his reputation to pieces. He's been both overlooked and scrutinized, and he knows how such circumstances can change a person beyond what was thought possible.

He knows, but it seems that his upbringing has more of an impact on him than his time in the Wizarding world.

"What about the mechanics?" Banner says, changing the topic when neither Harry nor Thor continue. The tension lessens. Romanoff’s hand slides off her holstered gun. "Iridium, what do they need the iridium for?"

Tony straightens. "It's a stabilizing agent," he says, and every eye turns to him. "Means, the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D.."

Harry notices Rogers' confusion. "Basically, the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants," he explains, and gets a small smile in thanks. He returns it distractedly, still lost in thought.

It seems everyone is inclined to ignore what has just happened. Harry can't say that he isn't relieved by that. He doesn't much feel like explaining what just happened to anyone, not even Tony. Harry is a ticking time bomb, set to detonate randomly at anything that rubbed him the wrong way, and not even his little argument with Thor earlier managed to take the edge off of it.

But maybe the discussion will help to distract him. He turns his attention back to the two scientists, forcing himself to take deep breaths and easing his shoulders back down from their tensed position. He even pastes a smile on his face. It's phony as all hell and he knows anyone could see through it, but it's the effort that counts right?

Tony continues, "The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. The only major component he still needs is a power source of high energy density. Something to kick-start to the cube." He spreads his hands like he's waiting for applause.

"When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?" Hill asks skeptically.

"Last night," Tony answers offhandedly. Then he sees the uncomprehending look on her face. "The packet, Selvig's notes, the extraction theory papers." When she doesn't answer, he sighs irritatedly. "Am I the only one who did the reading?"

Harry grins, making Tony give him a look.

"Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" Rogers cuts him off, a pointed reminder to get back to the topic on hand.

Tony doesn't get a chance to answer before Banner does. "He's got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier."

"Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect," Tony counters, the excitement that he reserves only for science bubbling to the surface.

Banner relaxes at the familiar topic. "Well, if he could do that he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet."

Tony grins and takes the last few steps forward. "Finally. Someone who speaks English," he says. He ignores Rogers' "Is that what just happened?" and reaches out a hand to Banner.

"It's good to meet you, Doctor Banner," he greets, his excitement barely contained. "Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster," he rambles, and Harry smirks at his plain nerves.

Banner hides a smile of bemusement. "Thanks."

"Doctor Banner is only here to track the cube," Fury says as he strides in, black coat flapping ever-so-mysteriously behind him. "I was hoping you might join him―" He stops when he sees Harry. "Do I even want to know how you got up here?"

"He flew," Tony chips in, grinning. "With a broomstick and all."

Fury rolls his good eye. "You've got to be kidding me."

Harry shakes his head, smothering a laugh when Fury mutters a curse.

"Do you know anything about Loki's plans?" he demands.

"Well, firstly, he was tortured and coerced into carrying this plan out, so you're lucky," Harry starts, "because he could probably have taken over the entire world by now if he was actually trying. Second, this also means that he's answering to someone, so there's probably going to be a rescue team coming for him."

Fury tenses, along with every other agent within earshot.

He hesitates at the last one and doesn't look at Banner. "He's also going to use the Hulk somehow in his plans." He flashes a quick look at Banner when he shifts uncomfortably. "No worries, Doctor, I can help you with that," he says quickly, pulling out a vial and tossing it to Banner. "Calming Draught. It'll help. No side effects, I swear."

Banner fingers the vial with nothing short of amazement. "Thank you," he breathes.

Fury waits for a while before asking, "Is that all?"

When Harry nods, he spins around. "Agent Hill, engage all defenses, especially those around the cell. Agent Coulson, get every radar we have scanning the airspace around us for any kind of aircraft. Allow no one in at this point in time. The rest of you, I want you all armed and ready to go when I give the alarm, am I clear?" he orders.

Harry's only half-listening as he wanders over to the table. He taps the screen and brings up the video feed of Loki in his cell, trying to think of something that gives the controller complete control over someone but still allows that person to retain their cognitive functions. He can't.

"Fury, I want to get a closer look at that scepter you were talking about," he says with a frown. "I can't think of anything that can control someone to this extent, and I want to know what the hell that thing is."

Fury nods and says, "I'd like to know how Loki managed to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys too."

Thor interrupts, "Monkeys? I do not understand."

Rogers perks up. "I do!" He seems to sense the curious looks the others are giving him and so his next sentence is said with more hesitation. "I understood that reference."

Harry sees Tony roll his eyes and turn to Banner. "Shall we play, doctor?"

Banner points down the hallway they're standing in front of. "This way, sir."

Before Tony can ask, Harry is already shaking his head. "You two go ahead first, I'll catch up to you when I'm done here." He taps away at the table, enlargening the feed so everyone can see. "I think I'm going to go question our favorite god of mischief first."

He stands and disapparates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Frostiron Christmas oneshot will be coming sometime this week as well, even though it's late as all hell and should probably be for the New Year instead, but oh well.
> 
> Please let me know if there's anything I can improve on, thanks!


	7. lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry blows out a breath. "Guess I'll be the only levelheaded one then," he says, and nearly laughs when his words sink in.
> 
> That'll be a new one for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So at the start of this chapter, Harry and Loki use a code. [IchiyanTheMango](http://archiveofourown.org/users/IchiyanTheMango/pseuds/IchiyanTheMango) thought it was through telepathy, so I thought I should say that it's not telepathy, but a code that's in the way they word their sentences.
> 
> Just thought I should say this.
> 
> Also, so sorry for this fic coming so late. The explanation for this is that when school starts, it tends to be sensory and social hell for me, and it takes me a while to adjust back to it. In that time, I will generally run out of spoons more quickly and so I have less energy to write. (Even if I did, it'd probably turn out really badly, so.)
> 
> The next chapter should be coming next week, but it depends since I still haven't fully adjusted to school life yet. Sorry about this!

**0 6**

**l o s t**

"But the hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them into curious shapes. The heart of a hurt child can shrink so that forever afterward it is hard and pitted as the seed of a peach. Or again, the heart of such a child may fester and swell until it is a misery to carry within the body, easily chafed and hurt by the most ordinary things." ― Carson McCullers

 

He reappears in the hallway that leads to Loki's cell and smirks at the thought of the agents thrown into a panic at his sudden disappearance. "That's payback, Fury," he mutters, before he points his wand at the door and says, " _Alohomora_."

Loki is pacing when Harry enters, a predator on the prowl in a cage of his own making. He doesn't stop even when Harry's boots scuff against the metal floor, hollow echoes alerting Loki to his presence, and only looks up when he takes a seat.

It's a staring contest at first, neither willing to back down, green facing off against green-turned-blue. Harry has to hide a shiver at how unnaturally bright that shade is, but Loki doesn't move an inch, posture ramrod straight with the slightest slouch, positioned right in the center of the cell where he has a perfect view of everything.

Harry breaks the silence first. His fingers tap against his thigh four times in quick succession where Loki can see it clearly. "I see you've been up to no good lately."

(Is there someone watching?)

Loki scoffs, but his eyes brighten with hope. "I am the god of mischief, it comes with the title."

(Yes.)

"Sure," Harry drawls, and raises an eyebrow. "So does destruction, fear, and ruin, apparently. I'm curious, however did you manage that while being king? I imagine that comes with a lot of responsibilities."

(Can you shield yourself from it?)

"I did not." Loki's voice is pure ice. "They thought I usurped the throne. I was never king to them."

(No. They are powerful enough to bypass my warding.)

Harry leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. "Really? I was under the impression that your mother made you regent so that she could look after Odin. What made them think that way?"

(Really? How?)

"Does it really matter?" Loki comes to the front of the cage and looks down at him, managing to look lofty even through a sheet of Hulk-proof glass. "They would not listen, so I punished them for their treason."

(It doesn't matter. What's done is done. What can you do for me from here on?)

"Innocents were caught up in their punishment." Harry tilts his head and stares right back at him. "Punishing them for treason is inevitable, but you forgot that there was a innocent town caught in the crossfire. Why did you do that?”

(It will cause a lot of pain, but you may want to hold on a bit longer. I doubt whoever's watching you will forgive you if you disobey your orders right now. What's your plan?)

Loki's lip curls in a sneer, but he doesn't look at Harry. "All that mattered was getting to them. If I do not nip the problem in the bud, they will never listen to me."

(I don't care. Just do it as soon as possible. Bottleneck.)

Harry's eyes sharpen. He sits up and leans forward, his calculated casualness vanishing. "Nip the problem in the bud," he repeats, and laughs. "Is that why you let us capture you? Is this all a ploy to destroy the forces that protect Midgard from the inside? How interesting."

(Not bad. How long until you fail that?)

Loki mirrors his smirk and steps back, holding out his hands. "What do you think?"

(What else would you have me do? You know what I'm planning, yes?)

Harry has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He assumes a serious expression, but his eyes burn. "You gave up far too easily in Stuttgart, not to mention that you could have just sent one of your people in. Why?"

(You'll give us the unfair advantage, but you'll play it off as you being overly confident.)

Loki looks almost impressed. The side of his lips quirk up. "Not bad. I see Thor finally had some sense knocked into him, if he asked you to come along.

(Yes. Keep Thor safe. Knock some common sense into him if you have to.)

Harry tilts his head. "Oh, he didn't ask me to come. I was asked to help by S.H.I.E.L.D. because I have prior experience with Asgard."

(I will try. I have gotten S.H.I.E.L.D. to consider my opinion on this matter as well.)

"So he has not learnt his lesson fully." Loki gives a sharp smile and nods. "Why am I not surprised?"

(Thank you. I'm not surprised that you managed that.)

"Because you know him." Harry stands. "Where is the Tesseract?"

(I know you. I know how you think. Will that be all?)

Delight gleams in Loki's eyes. "Why should I tell you?" he purrs, leaning forward. "I have not had such fun in centuries. And you should really know better than to ask the god of lies a question."

(Yes. Go now.)

Harry gives him a considering look, then glances at the camera. "I tried," he says, then walks out.

(Good luck.)

Loki doesn't bother to say anything else. He just watches Harry leave with an amused stare, and that's all the gratitude Harry needs.

* * *

He apparates to the briefing room once he's outside, and Romanoff's gun is up faster than he can blink.

Harry waves her off with a scoff. "Don't worry about me, Agent Romanoff. If I wanted you dead, you'd all be dead by now."

Her hand doesn't shake as she returns her gun to its holster with deliberate slowness. "So would you."

"Not that easy to kill."

Romanoff gives him a mocking once-over and smirks a little. Harry rolls his eyes and turns to Fury, cutting off Thor before he gives Romanoff a reason to not underestimate him. He knows what she's trying to do, and he also knows better than to fall for it. Draco trained him out of it already.

"Where did they go?"

Fury is scowling, probably at the way Harry's just popping all around his top secret helicarrier. "Down the hallway. Just keep walking until you find them."

Harry snaps off a salute and winks at him. "Best be off, then."

"Wait!" Rogers gets out of his seat and comes to stand by Harry, angling his body so he's closer to the corridor than Harry is. "I'll come with you."

Harry quirks an amused smile but nods anyway, letting Rogers fall into step with him. A few agents hurry past them, some stopping to stare at the famous Captain America—a reputation which Harry knows full well is mostly due to propaganda. He worked with the SSR for long enough to know that Project: Rebirth was thought to be a futile effort, and that Rogers had never gotten actual military training.

But propaganda will make people believe anything, if ingrained in the culture for long enough.

Rogers clears his throat. "You're Stark's friend, huh?" He keeps his eyes straight ahead. "What's he like?"

"One of the best friends I could ever ask for," Harry says immediately. He studies Rogers' expression carefully, watching for any tells. "He's one-of-a-kind."

"Yeah, you seem to befriend a lot of one-of-a-kind people," Rogers says, then immediately flushes so red a nearby agent blinks in shock.

Harry barks out a laugh. "Can't say you're wrong—" he stops when Rogers holds out a hand, eyes narrowing at the lab they've stopped outside. Tony and Bruce are standing at a table and studying the scepter, and as they watch, Tony pokes Bruce with a small electrical prod. Banner yelps, staring at Tony with nothing short of incredulity.

Rogers' eyes harden and he bursts in through the door. Harry gapes at the way he punches the button, swearing under his breath.

Doesn't Rogers know his own strength?

"Hey!"

Tony ignores him and continues peering at Bruce. "Nothing?"

Rogers doesn't give up. He walks right up to the table, squaring his shoulders. "Are you nuts?"

"Jury's out," Tony dismisses, then looks back at Banner. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you? What's your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?"

Banner hides an amused smile as he moves in front of Tony to scan the scepter.

"Is everything a joke to you?"

"Funny things are," Harry says in unison with Tony, and he's rewarded with a smirk. Even Banner glances up at him with brightening eyes.

But Rogers isn't deterred. He shoots Harry a disappointed look, at which Harry just rolls his eyes. Rogers has nothing on Mrs Weasley or Hermione. Even Pepper Potts would be cowed by them.

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny. No offence, Doc," Rogers adds, almost as an afterthought.

Banner's expression closes up and he keeps his gaze on the monitor in front of him. It's Harry's turn to glare at Rogers. "It's all right, I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things."

Tony backs away from the table, pointing the electrical prod at Banner. "You're tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut," he calls, and picks up a bag of blueberries.

"And you need to focus on the problem, Mr Stark." Rogers is like a dog with a bone with the way he doesn't let up. Harry sends up a silent apology to Hermione and everyone else who had to deal with his bullheadedness in the past.

"You think I'm not?" Tony demands. "Why did Fury call us and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables."

Rogers just gives him a look. "You think Fury's hiding something?"

Merlin's beard.

"Of course he's hiding something, Rogers, did you seriously expect him not to?" Harry cuts in, moving to stand beside Tony. "He's a spy, and guess what spies are notorious for: they don't tell the damn truth."

Tony grins at him. "His secrets have secrets, Cap," he adds, popping a handful of blueberries in his mouth, then points at Banner. "It's bugging him too, isn't it?"

Banner doesn't look at anyone, fidgeting. "Uh, I just want to finish my work here, and—" he stalls.

"Doctor?"

Banner stills when Rogers speaks. He sighs and takes off his glasses, saying, "'A warm light for all mankind.' Loki's jab at Fury about the Cube."

"I heard it."

Instead of responding to Rogers, Banner looks at Tony. "Well, I think that was meant for you." Tony holds out the blueberries and Banner grabs a handful. "Even if Barton didn't tell Loki about the tower, it was still all over the news."

Harry raises his eyebrows. That's true. He didn't think much about that part when they were watching Loki and Fury, but what Banner said does make sense.

"The Stark Tower? That big, ugly building—" Rogers pauses when Tony gives him a long stare, "—in New York?"

Tony gives him a look and whispers, "Can you believe this guy?"

Harry shrugs. "He looks like the American flag vomited on him, are you really going to listen to what he said about your tower?" he hisses, knowing full well both Banner and Rogers can hear them with their enhanced hearing.

Tony tilts his head, hiding a smirk, but turns to Banner when he finishes telling Rogers about the arc reactor. "It's just the prototype. I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now. That's what he's getting at."

Harry takes advantage of Tony's distraction to try and grab a few blueberries, but Tony slaps his hand away without even looking. "Magic up your own food, Potter," he tells him. "You're a wizard. I'm just a normal man."

"Magic doesn't work like that, Tony. I can't just magic up food. Can't turn something into food either."

Banner fiddles with his watch, ignoring them. "So, why didn't S.H.I.E.L.D. bring him in on the Tesseract project? What are they doing in the energy business in the first place?"

Tony is already pulling out his phone when he walks around the table. "I should probably look into that once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secure files."

Rogers shifts to face him. "I'm sorry. Did you say—"

"JARVIS has been running it since I hit the bridge," Tony interrupts, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "In a few hours, I'll know every dirty secret S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever tried to hide. Blueberry?"

"Yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around," Rogers counters.

Tony raises an eyebrow. "An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not awesome."

"I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war and if we don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders. We should follow them."

"Broken record, much?" Harry mutters, and hears Banner stifle a laugh.

"Following's not really my style." Tony pops another blueberry in his mouth.

Rogers juts out his chin. "And you're all about style, aren't you?"

Harry can see Tony recoil at that and is about to say something when Tony composes himself. "Of the people in this room, which one is, A, wearing a spangly outfit, and, B, not of use?" He looks at Rogers pointedly.

Banner cuts in before either Harry or Rogers can. A wise choice, no doubt because of the way Harry has been glaring at Steve. "Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you."

Rogers glances between them, but he doesn't back down. "Just find the Cube," he mutters and storms back out of the lab.

There's a minute of silence, then Harry levitates a blueberry out of the packet Tony's holding to transfigure it into a chair, ignoring Tony's loud protests. The tension dissipates and Banner moves across the room to fiddle with another monitor, while Tony stays at the table Harry's at.

"That's the guy my dad never shut up about? I'm wondering if they shouldn't have kept him on ice."

Banner doesn't turn around when he says, "The guy's not wrong about Loki. He does have the jump on us."

Harry casts a Muffliato charm when Tony moves away from the table so he can focus on the scepter, which has been pushing waves of malicious intent at him for the entire time he's been near it. It's strong enough to worry him, especially since it heightened the strained relations between Tony and Rogers earlier as well.

He taps out a a quick beat and Death manifests out of the corner of his eye.

"What is so important that you demand I stay invisible to―" she cuts herself off when she sees the scepter. She teleports to his side immediately, hand coming up to hover above the scepter.

Harry grimaces. "So it is an Infinity Stone. The Mind Stone, I presume." At Death's nod, he continues. "Is there any way to nullify its effects?"

The look she casts him seems worried. "A patronus might work, but you would have to keep casting it every few minutes because of the negative emotions from the scepter."

"Which basically means I can't do anything, because a patronus requires happiness," Harry finishes and sighs. "So what, I'm supposed to just let it affect everyone?"

Death shrugs. "I don't know, the Mind Stone was corrupted. Until you figure out a way to remove the source of the corruption, it's likely that nothing will work."

Harry drops his head on his hands and says a few words that have Death snickering. "Come on," he groans. "This is ridiculous, I haven't been this uncertain since that time Ron glued his mouth shut."

"Ah yes, his delightful wife and sister were too busy laughing to help. Remind me again what you tried to do?"

He gives Death a narrow look and changes the topic. "Can Occlumency negate its influence?"

Death frowns and presses her hand to the scepter. The shadows writhe under her hood. "It should."

Harry blows out a breath. "Guess I'll be the only levelheaded one then," he says, and nearly laughs when his words sink in.

That'll be a new one for him.

* * *

Tony calls them over later when something catches JARVIS' attention. "So it seems like our favorite spies don't trust any one of us," is the first thing he says when Harry moves to stand by him, watching the video feed JARVIS has so helpfully pulled up of Romanoff interrogating Loki.

Banner shrugs. "Can you blame them? I don't trust me either."

"We talked about this, Brucie-bear." But Tony doesn't continue his sentence, eyes narrowing when Loki moves to take a seat. Harry moves closer to the screen, well-aware of Death pressing in on his other side, still invisible to everyone but him.

They listen to Romanoff spin a story about how she met Barton. Harry can feel Loki's incredulity from where he stands. It's so palpable that the only reason Loki is letting her continue is that he's toying with her, and this time, it's entirely his own choice.

Loki leans forward, smiling. "No, but I like this. Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man." His voice is soft, but tone cutting.

Romanoff makes another mistake by saying, "Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that, I'm Russian. Or was," she adds. It's a subtle manner of implying that she only looks out for herself and anyone she deems worthy and is willing to let innocents die so they can survive, one that would work on anyone but Loki.

Loki, who has protected the innocent citizens in Asgard from the aftermath of Thor's lust for battle, who only goes on the offensive when he's convinced that the other party has blood on their hands that should not be there.

Loki, who knows what it's like to protect his own with every fiber of his being, who remembers tearing down everyone in his way to save Thor from his enemies.

Loki, who's grown up on not just the tales of Asgard's victories, but on the stories Harry told of love and sacrifice and a castle in the Scottish highlands.

He knows all about looking out for his own, and what Romanoff is doing is not―was never―that.

Natasha Romanoff does not fight for anyone other than herself, and if she just so happens to be protecting someone else along the way, that's because it benefits her. And she's just made a grievous error in attempting to convince Loki otherwise.

"She's not going to win." Tony and Bruce look at him, startled. Harry keeps his eyes on the screen. "There's nothing Loki hates more than someone who kills innocents and knows what they've done. Romanoff's only going to get what he wants her to get now."

"I've got red in my ledger, I'd like to wipe it out," Romanoff says at the same time.

Harry just sighs and wonders where S.H.I.E.L.D. gets their agents from. He's seen the report Romanoff did on Tony, and it screams of manipulation and blatant misdiagnosis to get Tony to be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s little pet. He hasn't had the time to tear them a new one, what with the alien invasion, but the interaction he's watching now only serves to prove that Romanoff is better suited as an assassin than as a spy.

Loki seems to be thinking the same thing. "Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?" Romanoff doesn't answer. "Dreykov's daughter, São Paulo, the hospital fire?"

Romanoff's calm demeanor starts to break. Another facade, another mask. This is child's play compared to the millions of players in the game Harry's mastered for eons, and he feels only the slightest bit sorry that Romanoff would assume that someone with a millennia of experience―and naturally cynical, to boot―would let themselves be manipulated so easily.

"Barton told me everything," Loki continues ruthlessly, stalking to the front. "Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code. Something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!"

He slams a hand on the cell wall and Romanoff startles.

"I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you!" Loki snarls, face contorted in a sneer. "Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear! And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!"

Silence falls in the lab at that. Tony swallows and looks away, fingers messing , and Bruce has retreated to the table with the scepter, fiddling with the monitors in an attempt to distract himself.

Even Harry is mildly disturbed at what Loki is describing. It's not something the second prince of Asgard would have known. He had no reason to know this. Asgard's princes lived in peacetime, and the only battles they fought were when Thor's desires got the better of him. They would have no such intimate knowledge of what torture looks like.

But the man who fell into the void expecting death and came out broken but _alive_ does.

Romanoff's voice is incredibly small. "You're a monster."

Loki huffs out a laugh and lowers his arm, straightening. "Oh no," he says with relish, "you brought the monster."

The speed at which Romanoff's tone changes almost impresses Harry. Almost, because the way Loki's expression shifts into something resembling genuine shock is even better.

"So, Banner," she discerns. "That's your play."

"Yeah, that's what I've already told you," Harry grumbles to no one in particular, then looks across to where Banner stands. "You still have the potion, Doc?"

Banner shoots him a thumbs-up and a soft "Thank you", even as the tension in his shoulders eases.

Then Romanoff's voice is broadcast over the speakers inside the lab. "Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way. Send Thor as well."

Realization hits Harry like a bolt of lightning. Pretty damn accurate, considering who's on his way here, but he just groans at that reminder of who's coming.

Romanoff, who's shaken after that enlightening conversation with Loki, even if she refuses to admit it. Rogers, who's tense after his strained conversation with Tony. Thor, who grew up in Asgard, the land of the prejudiced bigots. Tony, who's in shock about the fact that aliens exist. Banner, who's hiding a bigger and greener alter ego that tends to come out to play when Banner gets upset. And Harry himself, who has so many issues he doesn't know where one ends and the other begins.

They're chemicals that react with drastic results on a normal day, and adding that scepter will only make everything worse. Loki knew this, and that's why he goaded Romanoff to reach a decision of her own making, a decision that will inevitably doom everyone here.

Merlin's beard, they just got played for fools by a man in a reinforced cage.

And the worst thing is, Harry doesn't know if he can do much to stop the chain reaction from happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who can guess what the code is gets a sneak preview of either the next chapter or one of the one-shots I have abandoned in favor of this fic, depending on if I can get enough of the next chapter written in time.
> 
> I'm pretty sure this chapter isn't up to standard yet, but I thought I should just get this out here so you guys can have something after two-and-a-half weeks of waiting. Sorry! (And I can't really tell this chapter is actually good? I'm completely exhausted, it's 11.59pm over here―see, I did update on Wednesday!―and I have two exams this week. I want to sleep.)
> 
> UPDATE: So as you can probably tell, I’m on a bit of a hiatus right now. The reason is due to my health issues and my studies, but I’ve created a [Tumblr](https://vigilantress.tumblr.com/) where I’ll be posting updates until I’m able to continue updating again. Sorry and thanks for waiting!


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